


you had me fooled

by Camilleri



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ;), Alternate Ending, Canon Gay Relationship, F/F, but still clexa get the fucking happiness they deserve, happiness!!!!!!!, if you keep reading you'll find out, obvs theres some tense stuff first, well sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 60,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camilleri/pseuds/Camilleri
Summary: Lexa gets news of upcoming war. the message is passed through many mouths before reaching Lexa so the tale is of a guy named Clarke burning her warriors and leading the destructive Skycrew. When the two finally meet Lexa is blown away with the blonde girl ahead of her. Her anger is blown away too as she slowly falls for the girl who fell from the sky.





	1. Chapter 1

“This Clarke you speak of, he burned three hundred?” The anger seeped into Lexa's voice but hid from her features as she turned to face Indra “Three hundred of MY warriors alive?”  
“Including Anya,” Titus nipped in, only to get a glare from the Commander for his crude reminder of her companion’s death.  
Indra just stared at the Commander regretfully in the dim glow of the room, before speaking up.  
“I’m afraid that’s what Anya's messenger told Gustas, Heda.” Indra's body was in rock formation, no muscles moving, in the back of her brain she knew that although the Commander wasn’t explicitly throwing her fury about, it defiantly burned deep inside her bones. Afraid of nothing but still treading on eggshells around Lexa, Indra made sure the statue stance was kept up. The stone chamber they stood in was uncomfortably stuffy, the plenty of flickering candles, casting shadows throughout the room didn’t help that cause. Titus lurked in the shadows behind Lexa, obviously contemplating in his tattoo covered scalp, what next to say to the pacing Heda.  
In her slender hand was a tall staff, tipped with a blade, which the orange glow bounced from. A thick strip of animal hide wound around the carved wooden pole just above Lexa's white knuckles. Slight memories of blood clung to the tips of the fur wound just above the hide. The contrast between the deep grey of the fingerless glove which the Commander wore on the hand which grasped the spear, and the increasing white of her strained knuckles was hardly unnoticeable. The risen black leather which clung to her shins clicked against the floor with each step she took, the rhythmic sound echoing from the stone walls and filling the endearing silence which flowed around the conference room.  
“This is a perfect example of why the men from that so called skycrew don’t cast as good leaders,” the words slipped out of Lexa's mouth traced with disapproval before she could snatch them back in. out of the corner of her eye she noticed Indra's eyes flare wide before she quickly tried to regain her composure. Not quickly enough. The older man to the opposite side of Lexa's pacing noticed this movement, linking it up to Lexa's snapping accusation only seconds before.  
“Heda,” Titus’ voice was commanding, the only person on earth who Lexa allowed to talk to her in that tone of voice, mainly for the fear that she would anger him. Something about Titus disillusioned the cover of his patient act, something about him screamed for him not to be trusted. “I think we should be thankful that it is ‘men’ that are running their actions,” he paused, staring straight into the Commanders seething eyes “Because with this war on the way we can’t be doing with you getting, shall I say, distracted?”   
Lexa's pacing halted instantly, before she turned to face the two armour clad guards who stolidly marked the inside of the chamber door. “Leave us,” with no question, the two giants turned and slinked through the door, bolting it behind them. Silence filled the room as Lexa's back faced Titus, her eyes landing on Indra's, which quickly whipped away.  
“Now then. What was that supposed to mean?” Lexa didn’t even turn to face the robe clad man; rather she inspected the tip of her blade, running her gloveless hand over the metal.   
“It means, with the grand pressure following the consequences of the skycrew actions, we have a war facing us and now of all times, you of all people, can’t be wasting your days getting attached to a worthless girl, again.”  
“Titus.” Indra's snarl cut deep into the tense air, beckoning that the older man better be conscious of the things he was saying. Nobody moved in fear of drowning in the smog of anger which radiated from Lexa.  
In a black flash, her body was twisting in Titus’ direction, seconds later a gritty howl rang out of his gaping mouth, the hide tagged spear jutting out of his abdomen. Heavy pants dragged out of his mouth, his chest heaving towards the sky as his blood rushed over his slumping body onto a fur rug on the stone floor. Lexa strutted past Indra, whose jaw was on the floor and reached Titus.  
“I would command for you to never speak of Costia like that again, natrona, but it looks like that will not even be a choice for you to make. Just like my past choices and my future ones. Yu gonplei ste odon”  
Yanking her weapon from the still man’s flesh she used the material of his black robe to wipe the blood off of her blade.  
“Now there’s no need to seem so surprised Indra,” Lexa's face was stone cold, as if she had just made a bed, not killed her advisor. “Everybody knew it had to be done”  
“I never trusted him,” Indra's voice was laced with detest, but mostly surprise. “Heda, I thought you were going to,” the short woman stopped, picking her words carefully “take a break from violence such as this?”  
“Everything has its exceptions Indra” Lexa spun on her heel, her chin in the air as she swiftly moved out of the room, instructing the guards outside the door to clear up the mess.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lexa hears bad news, the words haunting her and evoking memories which make her sick to her stomach. memories which haunt her every time she closed her eyes. this time she tries to end them.

The old desk, soaked with age, flaking with the weight of the words spoken around it, rested wearily but proud under Lexa's weight. Landslides of wax formed like stalagmites, beads of light poking from above. They cast the only light over the features of Lexa's face, the moon outside hidden away. The thick, black material of her pants dragged along the upturned grin of the unkempt set of maps and letters of many sorts which added decoration to the surface she leaned over. Her emerald jewels peered down as if a magnifying glass, trying to establish the meaning of the scribbles on the crusty strip of dried animal skin which was stretched out across the map she had been studying. The large, flowing letters drew images in Lexa's mind that she wished hadn’t formed. The words were doused with petrol and thrown into the pit which swirled, burning inside of her, taking over her entire body. They depicted scenes of grand battles, of shining blades dusted with fresh sheets of crimson, strewn bodies and prosperous certainty of the conquer that faced her warriors. Then the words faded into her deepest fears, words riddled with the blood of her men on her fingertips and the smug grins on the faces of the unknown sky people as they ran from their fights, a pack of crazed reapers filling their cowardly boots. Pictures of her warriors draped across the plush forest carpet from which they learned to fight but now had to learn how to give their lives upon this deathbed strewn with cracking leaves and cracking bones. The looping letters spoke in Trigedasleng, Lexa's first language. In a world where everything is new, one old constant overruled the other nostalgic pearls left behind; English. Many Heda’s ago, it was decided that any warrior or highly ranked business person would have to pass their commands to one another through the twelve clans in the ancient language. The common harvesters and stall owners of Polis and surrounding lands spoke with dialects fathomed from their own accords, the Trikrew's being trigedasleng. Each syllable rolling off the tongue differently, the main link that connected the land was the dialect of the world before the war. According to the generals over near TonDC; the skikrew spoke in only English, their words rather misplaced and always informal. From what she had heard, these sky people disgusted Lexa with their slack ways.  
Suddenly Lexa's eyes came to a grinding halt upon one name; Anya. Lubricating the fear in her legs which whined under the words her eyes devoured, her heart flew into her clenched mouth. A feeling so common, a feeling so awful, it sends aches throughout your body in a way that marks your skin with invisible bruises and mind with demons much worse. ‘Heda, osir ciyk nou fyd onya's bufy. Der wer seintaim lerg bufies kom luj throad’ the throbbing behind the soaking eyes of Lexa's grew when she knew that because the body of her mentor couldn’t be retrieved meant only one thing; no passage. In order for Anya’s soul to flow into the new life which she deserved for ruling the Trikrew so defiantly, Lexa would need the braid in her hair to sacrifice her soul to the hands of the afterlife. After reading the message, anger bubbled inside Lexa's throat like nothing she had ever experienced before, the pain rushing to her head, her vision almost going black. Using her rooted feet to guide her thoughts back to what she was doing, nothing mattered more to her right now than to punish the Clarke, who had so unjustly slain her second half. He didn’t know what was coming for him in the wrath of Lexa's wake.  
After dragging heavy feet silently through the maze of a house, Lexa was finally laid flat on her toned back, her articulate eyes frozen on the ceiling above her bed. Her hair was knotted into a bun on top of her howling head. The cold empty space engulfed her, the knitted covers which were folder over her tense legs didn’t help much. Nothing felt right, like every night that passed, nothing felt right. The house which felt no so much like home laid in the bed which rested in a house which had to be called home. Lexa's skin prickled at the touch; scars not able to be seen by the eye triggering this feeling, which was the only feeling Lexa could ever remember. For the first time in months, Lexa's whirring mind focused on the darkness which rested on her shoulders, trying to depict how Clarke kom skikrew would appear before her. He would be tall, with broad shoulders but with thin ideas. His face would be ugly, as ugly as the bodies piled up outside of his camp and his voice would be riddled with poison. He would be cunning and devious; the thought of these traits dragged the faces of people from the ice nation into Lexa's already stinging mind. Before this point, her body was numb with pain, the images of Azgeda flowing into her mind. Bile rose in her throat as she depicted the horrendous events from many moons ago. Her heart was ripped out of her chest as images of Costia flooded her vision. Lexa clenched her eyes shut in an attempt to block the rolling head out of her mind. It didn’t work, Costia’s lips, so perfect and tender, covered in blood. The nose which collided with Lexa's countless times in the bed from which she laid, was smashed, twisted in such an angle that Lexa couldn’t bare to look. The mousy twirls, matted to her the neck which was abruptly slashed. The skin jagged and raw, clumps of brown blood clung to the patches of which Lexa had kissed only the night before she received the package from atop a stay horse. The consequences of that evening had cursed Lexa, the sights plaguing her every time she closed her eyes.   
In one swift movement, Lexa jumped out of bed, desperate to rid of the images inside of her black mind. She grabbed a large black knitted sweater from beside her bed, throwing it over her head, the fabric hanging over her thighs. Never once had she ever trusted anyone as much as Costia. Apart from Anya of course, but now that she was gone too, Lexa was alone. The thought sent chills down her spine, as did the cold night air as she stepped onto the balcony adjoined to her mighty room. Her bare feet padded against the floor, stopping when she reached the edge. Her head pounded, the feeling taking over her senses, her eyes heavy and faded. Pain flowed through her body with each bump of her monotone fossil heart. The air was lazy, the darkness coving her every move; the height she stood also accounting to that. Her knees came to rest upon a low stone railing, the shining lights of Polis below her suddenly cutting off as they reached the inevitable forest which surrounded the city. Cut off so abruptly, like many lives of the ones Lexa had come to cherish. Lexa's head dropped her body swaying with no guidance, her face hanging metres away from the hard ground below her. How easy would it be to end the pain right now? The thought scared Lexa to the bone, at the same time it warmed her heart. Nobody would be able to hurt her again. Maybe she would be able to encounter the ones she has lost again. The banging in her head shifted her body so she sat over the ledge, the soft feet dangling over. Her hands gripped the back of the lip, knuckles white with hesitation. How had things come to this? The voices in Lexa's head rung out to her, like the people of Polis, paying their worship to her every time she wandered through her childhood streets. Her people, who reached out to her, kissing her hands and whispering words of the dearest gratefulness for saving them. Suddenly their faces grew into morbid statues, tears rolling down their cheeks with the news of the Heda’s death, her body having been found in the morning outside of her tower. The idea of this sent Lexa crashing. Tears flew down her cheeks as she shifted backwards, suddenly feeling overly exposed and desperate to be back on her feet. with quick shifting movements and fear rippling through her flesh, she threw herself backwards onto the hard floor, falling through the balcony door in the process. Shrill sobs escaped her throat, her eyes squeezed shut as she skittered as far from the door as possible. Her whole body shook as she wrapped the large jumper around her knees, clenching herself into a ball from which warm streams soaked onto her bruised knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i know this is rather dark but i believe this is a concept of lexa which many people probably don't consider. if you continue to read, try notice the difference between tis lexa and the one clarke creates.  
> translation;  
>  Heda, osir ciyk nou fyd onya's bufy. Der wer seintaim lerg bufies kom luj throad. / commander, we could not find anya's body. there were too many to look through.  
>  thanks for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

Lexa raised herself off the stone floor, the knit coming to rest around her thighs again, this time drooping with the added burden of rare tears. Her bare legs poked through the bottom of the black item, goosebumps popping up along their long panorama; the nipping night air which fogged Lexa's throat, hitching her breath ran into the room carelessly. Feeling exposed, Lexa tugged the sleeves of the massive jumper over her hands, clenching them to try stop the quaking of her never frail paws. The stinging of the pressure her jaw was under pierced the ringing in her ears, temporarily blocking the shrill sound. Her mind was whizzing amok, the realisation of how low she was, pushed against her eyes, forcing the tears out, her state had never been this devastatingly precious. As she swayed on her wavering legs, solitude, her head was still held high. A single strand of chestnut hair escaped the jungle from which was strapped atop her crown, framing her suddenly emotive features. Her lips were folded into each other, stretched across in a grimace which bared no rose. The expressive eyes squeezed tight, failing to prevent the new born tears which rolled down her face, a clear trace of the warpaint.  
“Pull yourself together Alexandre,” the words were muttered with no hint of hope; “I am not weak,” Lexa opened her eyes. Her hands dropped the cuffs they had been gripping, fear sprouting from the next words as they passed through her. “I am broken.”   
In quick denial she furiously shook her head, unaware of what had caused them words to slip past her puffy lips. Lexa's reddened eyes dropped over to the balcony door, suddenly aware of the chill which stopped the sweat on her temples from nauseating her. Flexing her frozen feet away from the spot where she had been rooted, Lexa hurriedly shifted to the glass panel which looked so out of place in comparison to the crumbling cement of the balcony. Her uncontrollable hand flicked out and shifted the door closed, quickly flying back, as if she had just been burnt.  
The moon was still cowering behind the darkness, in likeness to Lexa. Trying to replenish this fact, her mind had been made. Moving almost like usual across the high ceilinged chamber, Lexa came to her towering, carved wardrobe; the rich wood colourless in the husk of the night. The same hand shot forward, less cautiously this time, the black material dragging up, revealing more of the tanned legs. The handle to which next touched Lexa's hand was cool and curving. The swirling delicacy of the granite metal shuddered against the slight tug Lexa gave the door, stepping back as it swung open. The array of colour in the wardrobe was as implicate as Lexa's heart. Blackness flowed to all corners the eyes could grasp, a dash of wealthy colours occasionally tucked into the shoulders of the war suits and elegant dresses. Extending up onto her tip-toes, Lexa selected her flowing trench coat, the black wraps for her legs folded inside the hanger, probably by one of her servants as she washed or ate, earlier in the night. Discarding of the metal hook which bared her clothes she made effortless time when shifting into her pants.  
The knitted, black jumper crumpled into a pile on the ground next to her once again tip-toes. Lexa reached, her tattooed skin on her spine taught as her hand grasped the also black shirt which she flipped over her head, concealing the bandeau which wrapped around her breasts. Making a quick effort of the cape and rest of her gear, excluding the armour, Lexa shifted in the dark of the night, placing a quick kiss onto the pendant which hung around the leather hold of a sword attached to the wall along with her other weapons. The necklace was beautiful, the pale blue of the emblem still glinting in the dark where it swayed. It wasn’t often that Lexa would place a kiss on her mother’s piece but this time she knew she wouldn’t be back for a while. With that she surveyed her room, a sigh escaping her lips and swept through the door.  
The clear skies inked with black, all excused for the shimmering freckles high above, shining especially brave for the Commander as she made her way through the land surrounding the building which she had just left. Her eyes trained on one star, the star which seemed to move faster past the others, on many nights would she look out for this one, it used to bring her luck. Ever since she could remember, this glowing jewel had brought a smile to her face but things were changing and Lexa couldn’t figure out why. Lexa thought back to the last time the star had been around, she remembers watching in awe as shimmering rivers flew out of the dancing star, lighting up the night sky. Not long after, she saw flaming turrets flying up to greet the falling sparks, from deep within the forest. This is when things had, for the most part, changed; the second set of shooting stars had come to hit a Trikrew village, the roaring flames from the fires which endeavoured her people illuminating the sly glint of the star which watched over the crying families crowded around their burning houses for warmth. Condescendingly the star peered over the flickering red to see Anya stood at Lexa's side, for what Lexa knew was the last time. A pang of pain exploded in Lexa's chest, her pace just growing faster.  
The balcony above her cut off her view of the star as she continued to walk; shivers flew down her spine as her mind flicked back to what very nearly took place earlier that night. Her walk sped up even more, the horse stables coming into view as she stepped off of the gravelled floor and into the trees from which Indra stood waiting for her.   
-  
“Why leave so early Heda? Whoever is in charge in TonDC isn’t expecting us until tomorrow evening.”   
Lexa kept her fatigue riddled eyes trained on the track ahead of her, considering whether to tell Indra the truth of why they were both mounted on horses, heading for TonDC in the middle of the night. Without turning she felt the two accompanying warriors, one of which Lexa had assigned to take over Anya's role when they were to reach TonDC, riding not far behind Indra and herself, within hearing distance.  
“I want to do a scouting mission of my own Indra,” she dragged her eyes to Indra, who looked at her with the utter most ‘this better be a good idea Heda’ look in her eyes. “nau shof op Indra, osir don a lan trek apred gon osir” now quiet Indra, we have a long journey ahead of us.   
-  
The sky had grown no lighter after hours atop the stallions, whereas the trees had thickened like the bristles in a brush, probably preventing any light to flow to the forest floor even if it had been light. Lexa glanced down at her gloved palms which clasped the reigns, her fingers poking out of the fingerless wool; fingers which had only just stopped shaking. She swallowed and lifted her eyes back up to the woods in front of her which spun like the images in her head.  
“Heda,” a voice which wasn’t Indra's pulled Lexa away from her thoughts. She noticed Indra had come to a halt, so she tapped the horse side with her foot to do the same. Turning to face the two men who were previously behind her, she noticed Tristan, the man who had called her to attention staring right at her. “Are you okay Heda?” his husky voice sounded like chains being dragged over concrete floor and didn’t suit the words of concern which slipped past his lips.  
“Yes Tristan, I am fine and if that is the reason we have sto…”  
“No Heda,” he put up his hand to apologise for interrupting “We should rest, there’s a stream nearby to drink from too.”  
“Were close to TonDC now though aren’t we, why stop?”  
This time the other warrior who Lexa didn’t recognise cut in “We had to take a long de-tour Heda, we left a lot of space around the camp which fell from the sky, the crew which murdered our people don’t seem too happy with our presence”. Internally, Lexa scolded herself for not noticing the peculiar journey. Nobody knew these lands as well as her but still she never caught on, her earlier actions clogged her brain like the effects of the mulled wine from winter meals. Dropping her shoulders and lifting her chin, Lexa made a mental note to focus, if she could remember that too. The warrior took Lexa's movement as a sign of understanding and linked eyes with the others in the small group. Indra huffed and dropped silently off her grand mare, the others following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you like this chapter? the story will get interesting very soon. leave comments and kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lexa finesses jaha and kane like hell with her acting skills.

“Welcome back Heda” a boy, scraping the age of becoming a man, dipped his head in respect for his leader and reached out to take the reins of her beautiful white horse. Lexa handed him the leather straps and gave a small nod of thanks.   
“It’s nice to return, I haven’t been to TonDC for a while” Lexa admitted, the boy’s eyes shooting up at the words. “How are your parents Yoso? Are they well?” a smile tugged at Lexa's lips as the boy, Yoso, went wide eyed. He was probably amazed with the idea he was having a conversation with the commander, probably more so that she knew his name. Realising what his commander had just asked him, Yoso cleared his throat, a frown developing on his face.  
“Well, sorry Heda,” he cleared his throat again “Not all that good, my father, he left me” Lexa felt her core tense as she realised what Yoso was trying to tell her with his shaky voice.   
“Raun faya, oso wada klin laudnes-de makho kom foutaim herr,” with fire we cleanse the pain of the past. “gon faya, is that the reason your father is watching now from afar?” because of fire.  
“Yes Heda, he was a warrior,” Lexa felt more words were coming so she kept quiet and let the struggling boy find the words he needed “he was a fine swords man but he never got to use his blade on the people that took his life, they cheated, they used fire.” Pain spilled into Yoso’s tone, Lexa could tell he felt revenge budding inside of him and could potentially turn that energy into becoming a fine warrior.  
“We will have vengeance, but first, we must have patience” she saw the realisation spark in the boys eyes as she reached out and touched his shoulder “Use your head, not your heart.” At that Lexa spun on her heel and made her way through streets in the early morning air to her tent so she could change before the sky fully lit up.  
It had been a while since Lexa had last visited TonDC and the marks her feet made in the dusty floor looked lonely, as for the last time they had fallen here, it had been alongside Anya's. Lexa was thankful for the crisp morning air as she felt the fire rise in her body, a fire which only blood could cleanse. She let the gentle breeze sweep her anger into the trees surrounding the village as she neared her large tent. It was a strange illusion in the midst of the wooden huts and mud buildings as for its makeshift nature, Lexa preferred it this way. Only in the tower did Lexa feel at home so why demand anything more than a tent for whilst she was away.  
The throne which Lexa kept inside this tent was far less temporary as it stretched high and wide, twisting branches mimicking the ones twisting above heads back in the forest. On this uncomfortable chunk of wood Lexa sat, a small hand mirror in her finally still left hand, a small metal container accompanying it. Lexa repeatedly dipped her frozen fingertips in this tub, and then cautiously drew a line of paste from the bridge of her nose all the way beneath her eyebrows to her temple. She did this three times before sealing the container and picking up a small bottle from the furs beneath her throne. Intensely she looked into the mirror and with extreme control, ran the liquid along the black, painted line. This was her favourite bit; her mirror reflected the movement of the paste as it slowly followed the tracks the liquid made. Instinctively Lexa snapped her eyes shut and felt the cool liquid spill over her eyelids, when she reopened them, the paste was coming to a halt just on her cheekbone ridge. She felt the cool air stick to her skin and slowly nip as the paste dried to a thin layer. As Lexa stood, the flap of the tent was opened and Indra's head poked in, instantly flying back out again.  
“Indra, you may enter” Lexa's voice was loud as she turned her back to the flap and moved to her desk, covered in a large map.  
“Sha, sorry Heda, I thought you were out” even with her back to her near to be general, Lexa knew Indra's eyes were trained at the floor.  
“What is it?” Lexa felt Indra come closer and join her beside the wooden table.  
“Here, the official scroll sent to all kru’s. They were sent at daybreak so the word should spread easy,” Indra held out a crisp scroll with a flame coloured ribbon holding it closed. Lexa grasped the paper, desperate to read the words all her people will hear over the next couple of days. The scratchy handwriting told of how the commander has placed a bounty of five thousand gree, the currency used in Polis, on the head of any member of the skycrew; any, alive, member of the skycrew. A whisper of a smile crept onto Lexa's lips as she could feel the weight of her revenge beginning to lighten its load. Now all she could do was wait. The wait was painful, or at least made Lexa feel some discomfort, after been burdened with more news of the Skikru assassin in the peaceful village near TonDC harboured even more anger in Lexa's bones. She would ruin the Skikru, even if it meant ruining herself.  
\- Four days later -  
With the news in mind that Tristan was scourging the forest for the rest of the skycrew Lexa wondered how well they would hold their hidden position as for their ‘chancellor’ and his second were locked in the cell beneath her, blood caking their skin. Tristan slightly slipped Lexa's gage of trust but was a grand general, all the way from the Faurtrikru, deep forest people. He had joined Lexa as the general from Faurtrikru to temporarily replace Anya who was formerly the general for Trikru in the search for justice, in the knowingness that blood must have blood.   
Breaking her thoughts, an older woman named Gerni approached Lexa with a beige cloth in her hand and without any word began to wrap the material around the commander’s hair, masking the delicate braids.  
“Fir gon luk” best of luck, the woman nodded at Lexa after she tied the knot.  
“Ai nou wan luk Gerni, ai laik Heda” I don’t need luck Gerni, I am Heda. The older woman smirked at Lexa's pride and left her to the larger man approaching behind Lexa.  
“Gustus,” Lexa nodded her head, pleased to reconnect with the burly man to who she had turned to face.  
“Hei Heda, you have taken on the look of your former self, all them years ago may I add,” Lexa revealed a slight, rare smile at her uncle before handing him her shoulder plate and other armour.  
“Teik’s gou” let’s go, Lexa dropped the smile and set off towards the concealed doorway to the cell below, Gustus and his men overtaking her.  
-  
The two men ahead of Lexa were juxtaposed like the sun and moon. One was more muscular with shorter hair and darker skin; the other wasn’t as broad, with ruffled hair and a younger looking beard. The older of the two stood somewhat patiently; the other had been ripping at his chained ankle, the purple ring on his skin evident of that. From behind the giant men who now spoke to the prisoners, Lexa could clearly see the panic being portrayed on their faces. Suddenly the room was quiet; it was Lexa's turn to act now. Gustus turned to her, “Konge osir taim bilaik odon” fetch us when it’s done. After many years of practice, Lexa used her self-control to form a character in the minds of the two men, only slightly did she have to fight her urge to bare her commander face to these scared men, otherwise she painted a convincing picture of an innocent girl. Her uncle and the other warriors left up the stairs, leaving her to shuffle across the underground cell. From the corner of her eye, the men glanced at the blade which shone in the leaves at their feet, the tiled walls emitting no other option of escape than what Gustus had spoken of.  
The heavy breathing came from the longer haired man, the other rested against the wall with closed eyes. He put too much trust in Lexa's acting. Lexa twiddled a dead leaf between her fingers, keeping the fire in her stomach at bay. She wondered if either of these men were Clarke, if so, she would stand and slit his throat at the first mention of it.  
“I don’t want us to turn on each other,” the calm man broke the silence, Lexa's ears flicking to attention.  
“They want justice,” Lexa gently threatened, her eyes focused on the floor. She noticed both of the men finally paying her some attention. It burned in her bones to face them as a leader, send fear down their spines, but she couldn’t do that, patience was key.  
The agitated man spat his words, “Lives have been lost on both sides,” Lexa's eyes flicked up from the audacity the man had. She watched him shake, knowing his anger was building; his self-control was as weak as Lexa pretended she was at this moment. “That’s why,” he removed his scruffy jacket and flung it to the ground, “we need to end this war,” his voice was loud, Lexa did her best to act shocked even though she had predicted his actions way before he actually moved. Her eyes fell back on the floor for a moment before the other man stood up. Lexa dropped the leaf, the metal of her dagger pressing into her thigh under her pants, out of sight. Slowly the man slugged his feet over to Lexa, examining her.  
He dropped to his hunches and took a deep breath, “What’s your name?” his eyes bore into the back of her head. Lexa sensed desperation on his tongue and knew in order to keep her role of a young girl at bay she would have to restrain her natural instincts to prove her power.  
Lexa purposefully knitted her brow, her eyes focused on her boots as she murmured her name. “Lexa,” the man repeated after her, his eyes were narrow and Lexa felt him trying to draw the story she carried from her body. She was rather surprised nevertheless at the man’s respect for her; many leaders seemed to frown upon the lower caste people in their community, especially those from other clans. “I’m Thelonious,” he cast his eyes away from Lexa, “and this is Marcus.”  
Without thought Lexa rolled her eyes upon hearing neither of the men were Clarke, it would save her from having to sharpen her dagger later though. Before she could decide on what to later do with the men, the man called Thelonious broke through her thoughts.  
“Your commander,” his voice was weary, the word commander rung in her ears, “Spoke of an, assassin?” the doubt that was riddled into his tone because of this idea was true. Lexa swallowed back her pain which flared up from the idea of the unjust action, her eyes flying around the room but never once landing on the two skycrew.   
“Yes,” her voice was weaker than usual; the fidgeting she maintained distressed her after the many years of having it ripped out of her. “Eighteen of our people were murdered,” her eyes widened, she had just managed to correctly say ‘our’ instead of ‘my’. The shock passed and anger laced her words, her eyebrow flying up as she spoke, “Elders,” she paused again, noticing Marcus’s beaten face crumbling knowing the word she would next mutter, her eyes flicked to Thelonious “Children.” The tension in the room thickened, the pain written on Thelonious’s face as the word settled within him, obviously hitting a raw nerve. Neither man broke the silence, Lexa understood the regret in the air, regret they didn’t have to right to call if they so claimed they knew nothing of it. A scraping noise caused Lexa's eyes to dart up, she observed as Marcus shifted to face her, his front half leaning towards her from across the cell.  
“We had nothing to do with that,”  
“It doesn’t matter, the commander thinks you did,” she raised her voice slightly, a tinge of fury accompanying it, before she dropped her tone again, her eyes falling on the solitary dagger “One of you must pick up the knife, that is our way”  
“And what if we refuse?” Thelonious bargained.   
She answered his question with silence at first, before deciding upon using her tactic, “Then the commander will slit both of your throats with it.” A warm buzz echoed inside of her as she spoke of herself in such a manner, the other two didn’t seem too impressed. Once again she found her eyes falling to the floor on which she crouched. Thelonious stretched up and sauntered over to the wall from where he had first raised, a low breath rattling out of him. From the corner of her eye, Lexa studied Marcus as he shuffled over to the dagger. When he grasped it did she turn to face the scene which would play out around her, the dagger on her hip pressed into her, a comfort. Marcus studied the scabby old weapon and flexed it in his hand; he joined Thelonious where he rested against the wall. Lexa kept a calm face as Marcus leaned into the other man’s space, a little confused when he didn’t react. Marcus simply raised the dagger, his eyes never leaving contact with Thelonious’s.  
“No.” was all he commanded to Marcus.  
“They respect strength,” he seemed fed up, “Lets show them ours.” His face twisted up into an expression of hope. Lexa realised that Marcus looked up to the other man; it fitted into place really, knowing that Thelonious was described as the ‘chancellor’ of the skycrew.  
“I said, no,” Lexa's suspicions were confirmed. “You did not order the massacre,” Lexa's eyes followed them closely.  
“Not that one,” Marcus replied, his voice shaken.  
“Marcus,” Thelonious’s voice coated Marcus in sympathy, “You don’t need redemption, the choices we made on the arc, we made for survival,” Thelonious screwed up his lips “We made the choices we needed to make sure the human race could survive.”  
“The human race was already surviving,” Marcus reminded him hastily.  
Thelonious’s voice boomed, obviously against what Marcus and he had been whispering about before he lost control “Then we did it for our people,”  
“Yes,” the desperation was clear in Marcus’s short reply, “Now we must do this! It’s the only way.”  
Thelonious stared into Marcus’s pained face, “Not gonna happen,” the words were almost missed by Lexa, the cold wall pressing into her back. The air in the room changed, Lexa felt it.  
“You're a good man Thelonious,” Marcus whispered, nodding the knife butt towards him, “I won’t let you die for me.” At this he took a few steps back, crazed eyes never leaving his companion. He flashed the metal to his forearm, dragging the dull metal through his veins as Thelonious shouted his name in the background. Lexa was amazed. The foolishness but true will for good shone from the man who lay squirming in the leaves, the other man bent over him, blood pouring between his fingers as he grasped Marcus’s arm. Suddenly Thelonious was begging her for help, his free arm reaching over to her, wide eyes following her doubtful posture. Finally making her choice Lexa quickly moved, efficiently tearing a strip of fabric for Thelonious to wind around the bleeding man’s wound. She caught his words of thanks as she peered over the situation, one thought stuck in her mind.  
“I told you,” Thelonious exclaimed, “We didn’t come all this way to die.” There was a split second of silence as Lexa turned to the door, about to call down Gustus but instead let out a startled gasp as she felt Thelonious's arm around her neck and the bloody knife pressed against her skin. “I choose to live.” Thelonious spat. She heard a mumbled protest of Marcus and the clatter of Gustus and his warriors fly down the stairs. Lexa heavily rolled her eyes and flexed her fingers, and then she waited.  
Her uncle flew into the room, his eyes wide with shock. She noticed they were wide as he probably feared for the life of the man who challenged his niece, but also as he was shocked Lexa would manage to get into a situation like this; especially since the man wasn’t a trained fighter.   
“Take off these chains,” he threw his words at the bear of a man. Gustus just watched. Marcus was now on his feet and held up his arm in fear.  
“Please, stop, she is just an innocent girl.” His words laid into Lexa, soon he would realise how wrong he was.   
Lexa finally decided to speak “Em don sad klin. Dison laik ain,” He has made his choice. This one’s mine. She felt Thelonious’s body tense against her own at the foreign tongue. There was temporary silence. Suddenly with the snarl of a wolf Lexa hit Thelonious’s arm away, the dagger being snatched in the process. She flipped him off his feet and heard him land with a thud on his back, bringing the knife to his throat. Momentarily their eyes connected, his were filled with pools of questions. He surrendered himself and she drew her eyes to the other man who watched with a bewildered look. Slowly she came to her feet; turning towards Gustus she clenched her jaw. “Ai don sen in chit bilaik ai gaf sen in” I've heard what I needed to hear.  
“Sha Heda.” Yes commander. The grounders bowed as Lexa slipped the head scarf off and let it drop to the ground.  
Making her way over to the warriors who held her armour, Lexa sensed Marcus’s jaw drop to the ground. When she turned, her senses were correct. All emotion drained from her features as she waited with the dagger in the air for one of her warriors to confiscate it, never once did her eyes leave Marcus. The weapon was snagged from her fingers and her arm dropped to her side in time for Gustus to place her shoulder armour firmly on her skin. Slightly lifting her chin, Lexa took her time fastening the buckle on the armour, resulting in a loud pop as it slid into place.  
“You're the commander?” the question was asked but Marcus already knew the answer, his face was revealing of that. Menacingly, Lexa drifted forward, her eyes trained on Marcus.  
“I have learned much about you,” she minimally tilted her head, “Your intentions are honourable, our desire for peace is true,” the words lingered on her tongue, “Breik em au” Free him. Key chains clinked as the last word was said, panic flaring in Marcus’s eyes until he deciphered the Trigedasleng phrase. A masked warrior moved past his commander as she spoke, “Later we will talk,” Marcus diverted his attention from the warrior unlocking his ankle back to Lexa, “In the meantime your friend will be used to send a message.” her eyes flicked to the coward on the floor.  
“No, no” Marcus caught on as Thelonious sat up, suddenly alert. The grounder warrior struggled slightly against the pressure Marcus tried to emit onto them for his release from the grounders grasp. The other warriors shifted over to the man on the floor and grabbed him by the arms, smoothing his fight by beating him until Lexa gave them a silent signal for enough. The men heaved Thelonious out of the cell as Marcus was freed from his headlock, and made to face Lexa.   
“The massacre must be answered,” she flicked her tongue in her mouth like a snake ready to bite; “Blood must have blood.” With no further interruption, Lexa twisted on her boot heel and stalked up the stairs; knowing Marcus would be well taken care of by her uncle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, ive finally decided that i will upload a chapter (hopefully) every sunday from now on, so make sure to keep updated. I had so much fun writing this chapter and i can tell you now many of you will be pleased with a character who appears in the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG sTUFF HAPPENS GUYS!!!! I THINK YOU'LL ALL BE HAPPY WITH IT ALL

Once outside of the tension filled, underground cell Lexa stalked her way through TonDC, making a quick trip to her own tent to change into her usual attire and grab a bag full of scrolls, before hastily moving to the wooden shacks in which the messengers of TonDC lived. 

The thin metal door shifted open uneasily, revealing a small woman who was shrouded in headscarves; so many that her figure was undisguisable. She rested behind an ancient desk similar to Lexa's own, other than the sky high piles of paper which crowded the otherwise empty room. Lexa let her feet fall loudly, hoping the elder woman would notice her, but failed. Awkwardly Lexa scanned the room, seeing none of the other workers, before bringing her hand to her mouth and clearing her throat. Luckily, the other woman’s head flew up from the letter she was concerning herself in, the headscarves bobbling around her.

“Ah Heda,” she welcomed “What can I be of assistance of?” her tongue was trigedasleng. Normally, only warriors were taught the fierce language but Lexa wasn’t surprised when the woman used it formally. Lexa had given a big push in her community for the culture to be cherished and made it so many more professions required the knowledge of their clans speech. The way the words resounded in the woman’s mouth inclined much more than this though, as she spoke with such accuracy it couldn’t have been from the recent movements. This was because she was the Trikru Laibon; this position entitled her as the chief of overlooking the letters sent to and from Trikru territory, ensuring she knew the dialects from all across the twelve clans. 

“Hieri,” Lexa spoke in a softer tone, her features misplaced as they were set like stone, “I need you to send one of these scrolls to each of the clans,” she stepped over a pile of flat papers, the sack was placed on the only available place on the desk, “It is a paper commanding for the new bounty on the head of any Skikru member.” she noticed a slight grin on Hieri’s face.

“Sha Heda.” The old woman nodded her head as Lexa spun and left the stuffy cabin, the door creaking shut behind her.

Lexa rested her hand on her sword hilt which poked out of the scabbard hanging from her waist as she made her way to the centre of the village. She noticed the sun was not far from its peak, just as she had expected. There was already a small crowd gathered in the open space which Lexa had asked a few days before. The crowd parted upon her arrival, voices shushing down as she made it to the middle of the ever-growing crowd. There was a small stand in the centre, a stage. Lexa covered the few steps and stood in the centre of the wooden surface, overlooking the turnout. Many masked faces shone up at her, along with the fresh faces of the tradesmen and women. 

“People of TonDC,” she made eye contact with as many of her subjects as possible, “I gather you here today to talk about recent news, and the new rule which will cover the land of the twelve clans. I understand many of you have lost people close to you from the recent happening of the evil Skikru; anger must burn in your bones. Channel this fury into work. I have put a bounty of five thousand gree on the head of any alive member of Skikru,” she put extra emphasis on the alive, knowing how her warriors would react, “Jus drein, jus draun.” At that she nodded, her hand dropping from her sword hilt, and made her way through the crowd to her tent.

 

-two days before-

Clarke didn’t know if it was sweat or blood, or even lake water dripping down her temple, she had no time to check as she swung a log at her opposition. Her eyes bulged as Anya ducked; grabbing the heavy weapon and slamming it back into Clarke's chest. Then she lifted the log, trying to pry Anya off it but the other woman was stronger. Anya flung the log forwards and it collided with Clarke's face, sending her flying; she hit the floor with a thud, pain ricocheting through her bones. Clarke had no time to moan though as Anya was stalking towards her. A glint in the ashes layering the ground caught Clarke's eye and she snatched up the dagger which lay amongst bones. Clarke's eyes flew open as she noticed Anaya almost upon her; with her spare hand she grasped a handful of ashes and thrust it into Anya's face. A rabid scream escaped the trained warrior’s mouth as the ashes of her fellow warriors dazed her vision. The cloud swirled around the drugged warrior, making her look almost graceful for a split second. Then the cloud cleared, leaving streaks of grey dust lining the mud caking Anya's body. Clarke jumped to her feet, dagger pointed towards the grimacing woman.

“I don’t want to kill you Anya,” the words slipped out of Clarke's mouth.

“Then you're going to be the one who’s going to die,” Anya spoke without hesitation. Suddenly Clarke jumped forward; the dagger missing Anya by about half an inch. Anya reacted fast, grabbing Clarke's outstretched arm. Her fist drove multiple times into Clarke's exposed torso, sending her crashing down again. Anya slightly chuckled to herself as she saw the other woman rising, again. She waited for Clarke's hasty move and once again grasped her arm when she lunged forward. Anya drove her elbow into Clarke's forearm, releasing a wail from the blonde whose hair was brown due to the mud. Clarke dropped the dagger, right into Anya's hand. The older woman lifted the dagger and slashed down onto Clarke's arm, blood squirting out alongside the scream from Clarke. With deep expertise, Anya brought the blade back and slashed Clarke's waist before throwing her forward and grabbing her shoulder. With no second thoughts, Anya threw her head forwards, the two skulls cracking together; Clarke was flung a few feet back. The hard crunch of bones under Clarke's back made her grimace, along with the blinding pain in her head. She rolled over despite the pain and once again got to her feet. This didn’t last though as a war cry echoed from Anya, her body slamming into Clarke's, sending them both to the floor. Suddenly the other woman was straddling her, with bared teeth and destruction in her eyes. The sun shone through the clearing in the trees, a clearing made by the landing of the dropship, which loomed just to their left. It blinded Clarke momentarily, like it first had when she had placed her feet on the earth. Clarke whined as Anya snarled and applied more weight on Clarke. Frantically Clarke searched for any break in the trained warrior’s defences. The dagger was inches from her throat, the revenge ridden face of its warrior threateningly lurking in the background. Clarke swallowed hard as she winced; her chances of winning were slim, even if Anya was still woozy from the drug Clarke had stabbed into her neck earlier that day. 

Her blood pumped fire through her body though as she fought for her life, like she had been doing since she placed her feet on the damned earth. Suddenly Clarke noticed the oozing wound on Anya's exposed forearm, from when she had bitten the tracking device out. Clarke quickly stole a look up and saw the raised dagger about to plunge into her throat. With no seconds to spare, Clarke lifted her hand and dug her thumb nail into the raw flesh on the arm Anya held Clarke down with. A roar of pain rung out of Anya's mouth, the dagger flying out of her hand and clattering a few feet away. Clarke's hand had found another object; she swung it up and saw as the skull she grasped crashed against Anya's temple, knocking the warrior off her. Clarke dragged her heavy body on top of Anya and brought her fist crashing down onto the other woman’s defined cheekbone. Fire flared through Clarke as she brought her hand down again, harder this time. Anger fuelled her fists which pummelled Anya's bloody face, before her mind caught up with what she was doing. She stopped, slight whimpers escaping the other woman’s bloody lips. Just for good measure, Clarke slammed her fist into Anya's face again. Then it was quiet. Clarke peered into Anya's face. Even though her eyes were shut and blood made streams on her cheeks there was no fear. There was a past, though, a past that Clarke was so curious about, a past which made the somewhat savage human again. Heavy breathing echoed through the forest air as Clarke noticed the dagger staring at her on the ground next to the pair. Hesitantly she picked it up and observed it. At some point this dagger would have been attached to the waist of a warrior, a warrior with family and a life; a warrior who Clarke burned to the ground. Blood pooled from its handle and coated Clarke's hands. She glanced back at Anya who seemed too exhausted to move all except for the rise and fall of her chest under Clarke's body. Clarke didn’t want to do it; she didn’t want to have the blood of another life on her hands, the life of someone she had grown to respect. But still she raised the weapon with shuddering hands. Her jaw clenched as she began to bring the dagger down. A loud popping noise halted her moments, sending her eyes flying towards the sound. Through the trees which surrounded her Clarke noticed a balloon towering above their leaves. A balloon which was made from the same material as the parachutes she had seen on the dropship. But she was at the dropship, so surely it had to be different. Cogs whirred in Clarke's mind as she put the pieces together. There were others on the ground, others who weren’t inside Mount Weather. That could only mean one thing; the Ark had landed. The sunlight cast a halo around the balloon. Clarke took a quick glace as she dug the dagger into the soil and shifted off of Anya who made no attempt to move. Anya peered up at the Skygirl, confused as to what she was so transfixed on.

“You fought well,” Anya decided to speak, her voice rough and worn.

“Do you see that?” Clarke's voice was stunned, her gaze fixed, “I knew it,” a smile formed on her face, “My people are out there.”

 

-the day after Lexa sent out the bounty-

 

Lexa listened to the whetstone sliding rhythmically down her sword. The sound usually calmed her; usually let all of her anger slip into the movement of her arm but today was different. Scouts had returned, baring news that Thelonious had returned to his people but that was all the news they could present as the walls kept the grounders out. A face burned in Lexa's mind, they had told her of a man they had spotted through the electrified fence, one who seemed to be a leader. He was tall and broad shouldered, but not overtly muscular. His black hair hung in curls around his freckled face but his eyes demanded fear apparently. Lexa flexed her grip on the sword hilt, taking a deep breath knowing that if this was Clarke, he would soon feel her wrath. 

Realising that if she was to keep going with sharpening her sword, there would be no sword left; Lexa gently placed her belongings on the desk, atop the map. The shoulder plate, which popped from Lexa's small shoulder deceived others of her frame, it was heavy and unnecessary so she clicked it off and dropped it next to her sword. The crimson sash attached falling along with it. Slowly Lexa walked over to her furs, which were in the corner of the large tent. She didn’t sit directly on them but slightly rested her lower back against them and sat on the floor; her legs were crossed and back straight. Sighing she placed her palms on her knees and slid her eyes shut, hoping the meditation would draw her away from the pressure of being commander. The air buzzed around Lexa's head, drawing her eyes back open. Lexa realised that meditation wouldn’t work and with a huff she stood again. Lexa decided the best thing to do was to go check out patrol, try clear her mind in the trees which she grew.

Her feet fell silently on the solid soil ground. The spring air nipped her face and helped her thoughts float on its slight wind. The trees encased her as she left the outskirts of TonDC, she sensed she was alone for once; no warriors trailed her in their hidden spots in the trees. She decided that she would check on Indra's patrol squad, who were situated to the north-west of TonDC. The sky was on the brim of losing its light, the sun had made contact with the horizon through the trees.

It took Lexa about half an hour to reach the guarding warriors and check up on them, at this point the air was darker, Lexa's senses slightly more alert. After chatting to Indra about the reaction’s from the warriors about the Skycrew bounty, Lexa felt much more at ease. She had expected them to be in outrage about the idea of keeping them alive, but no, they proved their will for their Commander by respecting her rules. Noticing the guards were starting to gather together, obviously as the next shift were going to move in Lexa decided it was best to make her leave. She nodded to the guards and Indra before heading off to the west, taking a slight de-tour before going straight to the village.

Lexa drummed her fingertips silently against her sword hilt as she moved through the dark woods. They stars were bright, Lexa observed. She stared at the patches of night sky which peeked through the tree tops, her mind flashing back a few days ago. The stars which had glared down at her from her perch on the balcony now cast their light to her in guidance. A shudder ran down her spine, it wasn’t from the night’s cool air. Suddenly a snap in the distance made Lexa halt. Her senses spiked, the unwelcomed feeling of company prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Her feet had come to a stop and her hand tightly grasped her sword hilt. She scanned her surroundings, only the darkness between the trees peered back at her. She spun on her heel as another branch snapped behind her; a dark looming figure began to emerge from the trees. Lexa clenched her jaw at the figure, her hand flexing on her weapon as it began to draw closer. She deciphered it was human, an injured one at that. The person limped forward in the dark, clearly unaware of Lexa's presence. 

Lexa cleared her throat, “Who are you?” her voice was low and commanding. The figure stopped, its dark head lifting slightly.

“Lexa,” the whimper of Lexa's name escaped its lips right before its body crumpled and collapsed into the leaves underfoot. Lexa eyes grew wide as she realised who the figure was.

“Anya,” sprinting over to the fatigued woman, Lexa hastily began to cradle her as she crouched on the forest floor. Questions burned in Lexa's mind but she knew now was not the time to harass her mentor. She scanned Anya's body and even in the dark she noticed the extremity of Anya's weight loss. Her bones poked out of her ripped clothes, clothes that were clearly not Anya's. Lexa shifted her weight as she moved her hand from under Anya's head and brought her up so that she was fully supporting Anya's weight. Blood coated the mud which caked Anya's face, her lips were split and chapped, her eyes the only unaffected feature. Her hair was draped in clumps around her head and a puckered wound screamed infection from her arm. Lexa felt her heart drop slightly as she tried to work out how Anya had managed to stumble into her path and what would have happened if she hadn’t of found her. With no further delays, Lexa effortlessly lifted Anya in her arms and began to trudge back to TonDC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so i couldnt not put anya in this fic. cause honestly, lexa and anya do deserve better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clarke realises her true feelings towards 'home'. anya finally gets to talk to lexa, the prosperous idea of an alliance coming into play

“You pardoned him?” Clarke felt her blood beginning to boil, “Even after what Lincoln told you?”

“Clarke calm do-”

“Don’t you dare,” Clarke pointed her finger at the chancellor, or as she would call her, her mother, “We were so close, so close to having an alliance with them,” she turned, her now blonde locks swooshing over her shoulder. They were stood in their home section, which panicked Clarke even more as for she felt strangely familiar in the enclosed space after all the time she had spent away. The metal walls were just like a cage but the furnishings added a homely feel to the unhomely beast. “They won’t stand for this mom, Nyko said they will want blood for blood and by us just going on and pardoning Finn means there is no way on earth that we will gain their trust.”

Abby shook her head, unbelieving of her daughter’s anger. “So you just want to give this, Anya or whatever she is called, the boy you're in love with? Sounds like a great plan Clarke.”

“First of all mom, was. Was in love with. Yes I still love him as a friend and I always will be, it’s just not like that anymore,” Abby raised her eyebrows, “Secondly, I don’t want to ‘give’ him to Anya. I want to prove to the grounders as a whole that we can take responsibility. Especially after one of my peo- one of our people, has just murdered eighteen of their people!” Clarke's voice grew higher as she flung her arms in the air.

“He is pardoned Clarke, there are more important things going on right now,” Clarke's eyes bulged at her mother’s words. “Lincoln is in the dropship, the drugs still haven’t worn off and Octavia is draining herself being there,” Clarke grated her teeth at the supposedly ‘more important’ problems.

“And what do you suggest we do about the forty-five people in Mount Weather, huh mom? Shall we just wait about for the grounders to come and kick our asses into the dirt and just let the Mountain Men string our friends up in their little cages to take their blood,” Clarke had stalked close to her distressed mother, “Or shall we follow my plan and build an alliance with the people whose land we are on, the people who need our technology to free their people from the Mountain? But no, no; according to you we should continue to rub the people who can throw daggers from fifty feet away and have the accuracy to kill you up the wrong way. We could follow the chancellors orders and get ourselves killed, or we can listen to me, who’s constantly saving everyone’ ass’ but is constantly looked down upon? Huh, which one shall we do?”

Abby had backed away from Clarke, an unreadable expression on her face. Clarke's fists slowly unclenched as the cool air radiated off the metal walls. A slight weight lifted from her shoulders after exploding on her mother. Abby, on the other hand, didn’t seem too happy about Clarke's truth and opened her mouth to speak but a loud knocking on the door cut her off. Suddenly, a guard stuck his head through their door, a look of shock on his face. Clarke recognised him as one of the nicer guards from up on the Ark.

“Chancellor, Clarke, I'm sorry to interrupt but,” he shifted so his body was now in their quarters, “There’s something you need to come see.” Clarke's brow knitted as she exchanged a look with Abby.

“What now?” Clarke muttered as she grabbed her bomber and stormed out of the door, her mother on her heel.

As Clarke rushed outside, she noticed the Blake siblings running through the gates, looking like they had just seen a ghost. Panic suddenly filled Clarke as she quickly covered the space between herself and her two dark haired friends. The air was just on the verge of filling with night sky; the setting sun glinted from the sweat on Bellamy's cheeks. Clarke heard the heavy electric gate beep shut as she waited for the two to regain their breath. Octavia was shaking, which was unusual for the strong girl and Bellamy had the hint of brotherly worry radiating from him.

“We-,” Octavia stood straight and faced Clarke who gave her a sympathetic smile “We found Lincoln. It’s not good. ”

With this Clarke's eyes grew wide, wondering what monstrosities would be depicted to her. Octavia opened her mouth to continue but Abby cut her off by joining Clarke's right side. Clarke took a step to the left. 

“What’s wrong?” Abby seemed unconcerned by the siblings. Clarke glared at her mother out of building anger and lack of respect for her friends. Dragging her eyes from her mother who stood crossed armed, with a raised eyebrow; Clarke took matters into her own hands.

“Right,” she addressed Bellamy and Octavia, ignoring her mother completely, “Go grab a pack, then take me too him,” she nodded at the two who nodded back at her, “Make sure to bring anything I will need” she noticed how quickly both Blakes understood what she meant without actually speaking it. She took their understanding as a sign that she would need the medical supplies she hinted at as they both rushed off into the Arc. 

“You're not going anywhere tonight missy,” Abby grabbed Clarke's arm as she turned to grab her own stuff. Clarke looked at the hand in disgust before pushing her mom away from herself.

“Don’t,” she clenched her hands beside her hips, “You can’t tell me what to do anymore.” 

Abby didn’t respond, instead, after staring at Clarke for a few seconds she called out, “Seize her,” Clarke was struck by lightning, she couldn’t believe her mother had just done that, “Also take the Blake’s with her, put them in lockup until tomorrow morning.”

“What the f-” Clarke started, before being grabbed roughly by two guards. 

∞

“Don’t look at me like that.” Anya growled as she stumbled ahead of Lexa, desperately trying to prove a point. 

“Ai laik Heda, I may look at you how I want,” Lexa teased Anya, only to see the older woman stop in the morning air; Anya turned to face Lexa, slightly grimacing from her healing wounds.

“You are my warrior, I can sit you on your ass Lexa,” Anya smirked at the stolid Heda, “Don’t forget all those times when you were my second where I put you down.” Lexa didn’t bite to Anya's insult; instead, she stared ahead at Anya with a raised brow.

“Hmm, maybe you could if you weren’t so stubborn and let me see to those wounds,” Lexa used minimal effort to tug back the slight grin that etched across her lips. She knew she had Anya backed up in a corner now, “Because, I honestly don’t see how you're going to lay a finger on me; the finest of warriors in all of my lands, when you can’t even turn your neck without grimacing?”

Anya pursed her lips; obviously not happy with the net Lexa had thrown over her head. Due to Anya's stubborn nature, the words which slipped past her lips made her squirm more than the writhing infection on her arm. “Okay,” she dropped her shoulders and looked Lexa in the eye, “Okay, I’ll let you see to my wounds but after I'm healed, oh Lexa you better be training hard cause I'm ready to take you on.” At this, both women grinned like they had when they were younger.

“By the state of you, I imagine you must have been fighting Pauna (the gorilla thingy) to be covered in so many wounds. That’s if you're still as finely tuned with your skills as you seem to be implying?” now only Lexa smirked as Anya fired death glares at the darker haired girl.

“Shut up Lex,”

“And since when does Pauna use a sword or dagger may I ask,” Lexa pretended to be completely stumped, “Because those slashes on your waist had to be done with a crafted weapon. I mean if it wasn’t Pauna then they must have been given the strength of the goddess of war! ” At this Lexa became animated, throwing her arms in the air; nobody seeing the ordeal other than her mentor, “But somehow Anya mana-”

“It was Grifen kom Skikru,” Anya whispered, as if scared of Lexa's reaction. Suddenly the smile plummeted from Lexa's face, her arms dropping to her sides and her right hand landing on her sword hilt.

“Grifen?” the venom flicked from Lexa's tongue as she spoke the name.

“Griffin,” Anya said the name in English, which sounded less blunt, but still pounded in Lexa's ears, “She saved me from the Mountain.” The respect from Anya's voice echoed in the empty air which only the trees seemed thankful for. Lexa stood with her jaw clenched and her long, scarlet sash slightly rippling in the early morning breeze. The scenery was a beautiful backdrop to a tormented portrait of Lexa, clearly analysing something in her head. The trees were beginning to regain their leaves which no longer carpeted the packed soil underfoot. Anya was trembling slightly due to the cold air which was heading north to Azgeda, she hugged her old jacket tight around her bruised body and relished in the thought of the warm air rising from the north which would bring the bounties of food and a nice summer, if there was to be no war that is. When Anya finally let her daydream go Lexa was staring at her with great intent.

“Then why did she fight you?” Lexa's voice was soft but not to be mistaken for weak.

“She had ideas of getting me influencing anyone who would listen, more particularly the leader of Skycrew or even you, for an alliance between our people,” With this statement, Anya watched the few tell-tale signs of emotion flicker over Lexa's features. Lexa's lids slid open and shut a few times, her eyes darting around; before her knuckles switched white around her sword hilt. The jaw clenched so hard Anya feared Lexa may have to have a check in at the healer’s tent and Lexa's muscles rippled into a tight frenzy. 

“And I agreed to speak to you about it with her.” Anya decided to spit out the last sting and felt her own shoulders lift when Lexa didn’t move except from the closing of her eyes more permanently.

Lexa swallowed and took a deep breath before slowly opening her eyes and striking over to Anya, who stood like a rock, except from the slightly smug expression on her face. Lexa opened her mouth when she was only a few inches from Anya, the boiling blood inside of her making her close it before re-opening it again. “Her people, burnt three hundred, THREE HUNDRED OF OUR PEOPLE ALIVE,” Lexa recomposed herself as she turned and took a step from Anya, who had a displeased look on her face. Swivelling back to face her might-as-well-be sister, Lexa inhaled another deep breath, “For weeks now Anya, I thought you were one of them three hundred warriors that were slain, my silent prayer have brought you back to me more or less unharmed, but now you're asking for me to consider an alliance with the very people who almost took you from me?” Anya didn’t move an inch, instead, waited for Lexa to finish her rant, “I even released the soul of the Flamekeeper into another, may I say, less ignorant body for bad mouthing and provoking your status after death,” At this Anya's face twisted into a mess of shock and relief and confusion, “Why should I Anya?”

When the foremost emotions summoned by the image of Titus’ death by Heda’s hand had cleared from Anya's vision did she realise Lexa had asked her a question. She paused, deliberately picking the right words. “If you were in their position, tell me you wouldn’t make the same choices to protect your people?” 

Upon hearing this calm response Lexa tilted her head slightly. She couldn’t tell Anya that and she knew it. Anya cocked her brow at Lexa's silence and gave her the same smug look from before, Lexa didn’t approve. “I’ll consider it,” Lexa sighed, “But only on the terms that you tell me everything you know about Skikru.” With this both women nodded their heads, Lexa stepping into line with Anya. Both of them began to finish their walk around the outskirts of the small town, Anya limping ever so slightly.

The two women sat in the medical hut, their dark attire suiting the wooden walls which encased them. They were struck in a deep conversation, although Lexa busied about fetching supplies to see to Anya's wounds. She shifted between the few sets of draws which were placed around the comfy sized structure, often snatching tools and bandage wraps from the draws, before returning to the raised set of furs in the dimly lit room.

“Show me your arm.” Lexa cut the conversation and held her hand out, after removing the fingerless glove. Anya sighed and raised her left arm, revealing a puckered scab, riddled with infection. Lexa's eyes scanned the wound as she reached for the alcohol which laid to her right, atop one of the draws. In silence Lexa unscrewed the cap and poured a slight it onto the bandage she had bunched in her fist. Without hesitation Lexa brought the liquid into contact with the wound, drawing a hiss from Anya's taught lips.

“It’s badly infected Anya,” Lexa shook her head, “I might have to cut away the infection.” Anya didn’t say anything; instead she sat still, giving Lexa all the space she needed. Lexa poked about at it for a bit longer before deciding she would some ointment on it and see how it copes for a few more days instead of performing some shabby surgery she wasn’t too sure how to do.

“I'm sorry I left you,” Anya randomly pierced the comfortable silence, shocking Lexa, “I wish I could have let you know that I was alive and that I wouldn’t just leave you like that.” The silence was not so comfortable now as Lexa kept her eyes down, fiddling with the knot on the wrap around Anya's forearm. Anya watched as Lexa bit her lip and hid her eyes, knowing full well the commander was feeling fragile. When Lexa let her hands fall down by her sides again did Anya reach up with her other arm and lift Lexa's chin, uncovering glistening eyes staring right at her. Anya slowly tugged the smaller girl into a soft embrace, a well needed embrace as she hushed Lexa who made a strangled whimper.

“You're the only family I have left.” Lexa's words were barely a whisper next to Anya's ear.

“Same goes little Lex,” Anya slightly smiled back as she rubbed Lexa's hair from her face, “Well, you do have your Uncle Gus too.” At this Lexa smiled and managed to grab the tears which nearly escaped her eyes into the embrace of Anya's shoulder. 

After being held for a few more moments, Lexa gently tugged away from her warrior and mentally checked the list of wounds needing seeing to. She had more or less applied varying ointments to all the gashes and bruises, with only the bandage to be applied to Anya's arm. As Lexa slowly unravelled the fabric, she looked up and caught Anya's wolf like eyes, eyes she had missed deeply.

“Are you going to explain to me your plans involving the Skikru,” Lexa saw Anya's eyes perk up from the bandage, “or are you just going to sit there and let me think you're a fool for even considering it?” 

Anya shifted slightly so Lexa could perch on the medical bed alongside her, which Lexa did without ever taking her attention from wrapping the bandage. With one final loop Lexa secured the sash of fabric to Anya's arm and moved her own hands to her thighs which jutted out from her cloak. Lexa shifted fully on top of the fur covering and crossed her legs, facing Anya who leaned back against the wall which the bed rested. “I think you should consider an alliance with Skikru,” Anya sighed as she admitted her opinion. Lexa's mouth moved to speak but Anya continued, “It may seem we are at war, but really we don’t need to be. From what I have seen of them, they're unexperienced when it comes to war and fighting but they can adjust quickly. They're not like the other clans; they use their minds instead of their muscles, which as you can see is devastating to our people who aren’t educated,” Anya watched as Lexa absorbed the information silently, her back straight and eyes down, “Grifen seems to have a large impact on what happens with the Skikru and she was willing to side with us and form an alliance, if it means not losing lives on either side.”

“Why do the Skikru care about our people though? I can imagine they don’t and if I allow them an alliance they would take advantage Anya, they are only in it for their own kind,” Lexa stared at Anya with tamed fire in her eyes, “If they didn’t want to harm our people and it is only done so out of defence, then please explain the massacre in TonDC.”

Anya understood Lexa's reasoning but had no argument which was defined. “They're weak Lexa, they're also strong, in ways we can’t really imagine. I imagine that one of them cracked under the pressure of a new way of life and burst, the ones that have been down here the longest are only kids remember,”

At this Lexa's head shot up, “What?” 

“What?” Anya questioned back, her eyebrow cocked.

“They're only kids?” Lexa was blown back a tad; she had no clue about this.

“Sha, the only reason why Grifen didn’t kill me that day was because she noticed a large round thing in the sky above the tree tops, which somehow told her that there were more of her people on the ground. When we had managed to stumble in its direction I watched as she nearly collapsed at the sight of the massive round chunk of metal which stuck out of our soil, with adults and children alike swarming around it. At that point it was dark but I could still make out they weren’t the same people who we class as the real Skikru Lex,” Lexa had a deep frown engraved on her face “Like we gathered, their houses fell from the sky, but Lex I think it was planned. They were meant to come down here but,” Anya paused, mirroring Lexa's expression, “I don’t think they knew we existed. That’s why the small ship landed, full of kids. They were the original Skikru, the ones who blew the bridge and burned our warriors. The ones who are trapped inside Mount Weather just like our people,” at this Lexa's eyebrows shot up.

“So if we have an alliance,” Anya watched Lexa slot the pieces together, “We may be able to use the brains and tech of the Skikru to bring down the Mountain, together?” at this Anya nodded, a slight grin on her face.

“There should be one condition though,” Anya smirked even more as she began to elaborate on her idea of a deal for the alliance.

 

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! i hope you like this chapter. comment ideas on things that need improving or ideas youd like to see! dont forget to leave kudos x


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey begins in addition, raven gayes is here folks

Clarke exchanged looks with Octavia as the keys rattled in the metal lock. The door creaked open as all three friends jumped to their feet. Clarke stormed out of the metal lockup, her eyes landing on her mother. Clarke stomped over to a remorseful looking Abby.

“If you ever, ever do anything like that to me again,” Clarke screamed at her mom, the two Blakes and a guard as an audience, “I will walk out of here, and never come back. You can try keeping all of these people alive on your own.” Her mother’s eyes watered up as Clarke receded, the anger slowly moving on. 

Clarke spun on her heel, storming out of the remaining parts of the skybox, as for most of the cells had been destroyed in the descent to earth. Both Blakes jumped into her line of footfall and didn’t share a look back at their chancellor as they made their way along the metal corridor. 

Clarke's anger was pounding against her heart, shaking her figure. She never expected her mother to actually use her power as chancellor against Clarke. Ever since she had found the Arc Camp, deep down Clarke had wished it hadn’t been there, which also spooked Clarke as all she wanted was the best for her people. But these people who flooded her old home didn’t feel like Clarke's people. Her people were the delinquents, the original hundred, who were currently trapped inside of the Mountain which ‘her people’ weren’t doing anything about. Clarke's jaw tensed from her spinning mind.

“Hey,” Octavia grabbed Clarke's shoulder, halting her fast pace, “You're forgetting something.” Octavia looked at Clarke with sympathy in her face, her friend seemed screwed up more than usual after the night they had just spent in lockup. Bellamy lifted his hand, holding Clarke's old pack; it was heavy as Clarke took it, noticing Bellamy had previously packed everything she would need, even her sketchbook. Clarke smiled sheepishly at Bellamy and whispered a small ‘thank you’ before sharpening her features.

“Okay,” Clarke tugged both Blakes around a corner in the light, metal corridor. They were now stood on one of the small passages which were out of the way of the normal route of the skycrew members, “Take me to Lincoln, we’ll go through Raven’s gate but first, I need to go speak to someone. Meet there in ten, okay?” Clarke watched as the Blakes shared a glance before nodding. With that Clarke also nodded and brushed past the pair. She ploughed through the almost empty main corridor, forgetting the bustling aurar the corridor had had upon the Arc. Most of the people who would have littered the metal veins of the ship now littered the ground outside. A thing most would never have thought possible. The bright lights above glared down at Clarke, and she narrowed her eyes, a strange and unsettling feeling sinking deep in her stomach. The feeling of not belonging. Clarke swallowed down the though as she turned along a narrower corridor and halted before one of the closed doors. Glancing around her, she knocked and swayed on her feet until the door swung open. Clarke was greeted with a smile as Raven looked her up and down.

“Well haven’t you scrubbed up a bit?” Clarke rolled her eyes at Raven, who was obviously commenting on how much Clarke's wounds had healed from a couple of days ago. 

“Raven, I… ugh…” Clarke once again surveyed the empty corridor before swinging her arms around to her front and clasping her hands together.

“Jesus Clarke you’re not going to ask me to ask me to bang you are ya?” Raven cocked an eyebrow which accompanied a smirk as she watched Clarke's jaw drop and felt the blonde punch her on the arm.

“Why would I bang you when I have these babies?” Clarke decided to play along to ravens game and held up her hand, making explicit finger motions and pretending to moan. Ravens amused look dropped off her face as Clarke's noises grew louder. Clarke carried on moaning until Raven gingerly dragged Clarke into her dorm and slammed the door behind her. Clarke dropped the act and began to laugh at Raven’s blushed cheeks. 

“Okay so,” Clarke regained her composure and faced Raven who had moved over to the single bed which was cut into the wall. It was always weird for Clarke to go into other people’s rooms on the Arc. This was because; all the rooms were made in the same way. They're all pretty much identical, except for the personal belongings which made each room different. It always felt like a dream for Clarke, an unreal dimension of her own room. “I'm going to need you to open your gate.” Clarke winced at how she had decided to say this, knowing full well Raven would find a joke to make out of her command. 

“Oh so you are here for sex?” Raven giggled at her joke and the unamused look on Clarke's face. When Clarke didn’t budge her scowl, Raven chose to stop laughing. “Yeah, okay sure. When do you need it?”

“Now.” Clarke gave Raven a slight grin as she watched the brunette grumble at her sudden request.

“Pssh, okay,” Raven stood up from the bed and sauntered over to her computer desk, “Only for you Clarke, only for you.” 

Clarke rushed over to see Raven’s hands flying over all sorts of keys and buttons on her desk. The computer screen spoke in a foreign language to Clarke and Raven hummed as she finally clicked on one last key. “There you are,” Raven turned as peered at Clarke, “Fence deactivated. I’ll be re-activating it in five minutes so you better get your ass out of here before that happens.” Clarke grabbed Raven in a tight hug.

“Thanks Ray.” She let the girl go, noticing Raven whimper as she shifted onto her free leg. Raven gave a pushed smile and a small nod which Clarke only just caught sight of before jumping out of the room. 

The darkness of sunrise was still filled with a buzz as the sky people swarmed around their metal queen. Clarke zigzagged her way through the cold air, avoiding the shooting range and under feet crops which her people had formed. Clasping her jacket slightly closer, Clarke focused on her surroundings; sharpening her senses to the world as for soon she would be leaving the security of the Camp Jaha walls. Her breath fogged the air ahead of her as she neared the section of the Arc which had broken apart from the main hulk of the ship. It was a large and twisted sheet of metal which jutted from the ground in a misshapen grin. The upcoming sunlight reflected from its surface. Clarke rounded its edge to see the Blake siblings nervously pacing behind their shield. 

“Finally,” Octavia huffed, beckoning eye daggers from Clarke. Without speaking, the three of them knew what to do, they all moved towards the fence; Clarke grabbed a wooden branch and haphazardly poked the wire which locked them in. when the stick remained as one piece and no noise was emitted, did Bellamy reach out and tug down the wire far enough for Octavia and Clarke to squeeze through. On the other side, both girls checked their handguns were full and Octavia tightened the straps on her backpack. She wore a slight vest, despite the nip of the morning air. From what the hundred has experienced so far, Clarke guessed they had landed on the earth in late autumn. Winter was in their midst and the hardening ground, lazy winds and icy mornings helped confirm that. Bellamy joined their side, his black bomber jacket matching his black waves atop his head. The three exchanges glances before Octavia took the lead and began to sneak towards the trees a few meters ahead. Clarke and Bellamy followed her steps, all in a comfortable silence as for the trees and sky provided enough noises to full their minds, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! soon we will have the big scene where clarke/lexa finally meet! i cant wait for you to read it. remember to comment and leave kudos, ive started writing alot more so expect more regular updates :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay so clarke actually has a reason to laugh in this chapter...

Once again, Lexa found she was laid on her back, covers shrouding her small frame, eyes staring into the darkness above her. The differences this time around were that a tent ceiling was the canvas for her mind instead of the cement ceiling of her Polis bedroom; the other difference, unnecessary fear clouded her mind. Yesterday, she and Anya had made the arrangements for a meeting with the Skycrew leader and as she lay on her furs, she knew that from now onwards everything would change. That was the prospect that scared her the most.

∞

“Holy fucking shit,” Clarke's mouth hung open as she stared at a restrained Lincoln, who thrashed about like an animal in a trap. Clarke quickly scanned the interior of the upper floor of the dropship, her eyes recognising everything as if it was a dream. A loud clash of chain and a violent snarl made her jump as her attention fell back on Lincoln. Octavia stood close to him, Clarke watched as she neared him gingerly, a beaker of water in her shaking hand. Lincoln was feral. His face was smeared with white paint, his mouth was splashed red with the trophy of his last meal.

“Is he,” Clarke shook her head in disbelief, whispering to Bellamy as she tried not to stir their friend, “Is he a… reaper?” the words caused Bellamy to shift on his feet, his arms automatically crossing. Both of them watched Octavia, who was now dangerously close.

“We found him in an abandoned parking lot when the acid fog hit, he was wearing that,” Bellamy pointed to a heap of ragged, patchy clothes a few feet away on the metal floor. It was dirty, unlike the interior of the dropship. The ship had been through a lot of wear and tear but the shining metal which was there under the heaps of memories seemed to give the place a sterile feeling. The thin rim of open shutters which wrapped the whole perimeter of the walls was latched open, allowing the early morning sun to come streaming into the room, the early morning sun casting a strip of light to run across the heap of clothes on the floor. Clarke hesitated before moving towards the pile and dropping to her hunches beside the dusty coloured fabric. In the background she heard the clatter of metal against metal, and occasionally a growl from Lincoln. He was affected badly. The last time Clarke had seen this image of him tied up in the dropship, he had been suppressing any emotion, any pain, as if it was child’s play. This time, he was rabid; his face twisted up in feral dispute and his form shook from the pure lack of control which overwhelmed his body. 

Clarke shifted the mud stained boots from atop the pile and sifted through the clothing. It was all just an assortment of animal hide and beige fabrics. Metal hoops and rings were strung to the material accompanying the blood stains which quite clearly marked out a bullet wound in the abdomen of the shirt. Clarke whipped around, her eyes landing on the puckered wound, deep on Lincoln's abs. She noticed the struggle Octavia had of trying to help the man she loved, all whilst not getting her arm bitten off, all whilst trying to keep a reign on her own emotions too.

“Did you come straight back to Camp Jaha after finding him?” Clarke switched on her medical head, her pack dropping from her shoulder to her hand. Lincoln's head flicked in her direction.

“We didn’t know where to bring him so we brought him here ya know,” Octavia replied, a dirty cloth thrown over her shoulder as turned, noticing Lincoln's attention on Clarke's movements. She edged closer to him, only to dart back as he took a snarling bite in her direction. Clarke sighed; it didn’t release the strain her heart felt.

“He’ll be okay O,” Clarke forced a smile as she pulled the alcohol bottle from her pack, then putting the small bag atop one of the plastic seats which jutted from the wall, “Has the bullet hole stopped bleeding?” she stood up and moved away from the pile of clothes, nearly joining Octavia at her side. Clarke decided to keep a bit of distance for now at least. Octavia nodded eagerly and took a step back towards Clarke, her forehead baring a new crease, riddled with worry. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke noticed the almost silent Bellamy shift from behind her, towards the hatch door. He clocked her suspicion and gave her a slight smile when he found both girls’ eyes on him.

“Just going to go check were alone, don’t want any psycho grounder murderers sneaking up on us, huh?” Clarke nodded at his idea, not bothering to start an argument that he shouldn’t speak of the grounders in such a way. For some strange reason Clarke felt it only right to frown upon those who insulted the grounders, even though she had only been in the same mind-set a mere few weeks ago. Shaking her head she glanced at Octavia, the hatch door clanking shut behind them. Octavia's dark pants wrapped around her now toned thighs and her muscular arms bore scars, showing just how much she had changed, she seemed to be a completely different person to whom she was when they had landed. 

“What shall we do?” Octavia's tone drew out many emotions in Clarke; the question was a lot deeper than what it actually implied. 

“To start off, I better get a closer look at that wound.” Lincoln silently agreed as his flailing cmae to a standstill.

“Mmm,” Octavia agreed and handed Clarke to blood stained cloth, Clarke knocked the cap off the bottle and doused the fabric in the sterile liquid. Slowly swallowing, Clarke felt her heart rate increase as she made her way, slowly, towards Lincoln. He made no movement; his focus was trained on the floor beneath them. His head snapped from point to point, as if watching ants scatter across the ground. Silently, Clarke edged even closer until she was in hands reach. The bitter stench of sweat and other nasty substances, which she didn’t want to think about, circled Clarke's nostrils, stinging her skin. Silently pacing her breathing, Clarke gently began to draw her shaking hand towards Lincoln's tense torso. She felt a bead of sweat roll down her temple as she cautiously reached further. Her eyes trained hard on Lincoln who still hadn’t noticed, his eyes were shooting around like a hawks. Closer and closer her hand got until it made contact. Lincoln didn’t stir, Clarke knew he probably couldn’t even feel it because his body was that tense. Everything was silent. Clarke gently applied more force on the alcohol rag she held against Lincoln's sheer skin. Her throat felt tight from each flick of Lincoln's head. He was a bomb ready to blow.

Suddenly a loud snarl flew from Lincoln's lips and the clatter of the dropship door hit Clarke's ears as she felt a pair of hands land on her shoulders and her feet fly from beneath her, a pain shooting from her elbow as she landed between Octavia's legs on the floor. Octavia had dragged the blonde back just in time as Lincoln's raw, thrashing face filled the space Clarke had just occupied. Clarke and Octavia stumbled to their feet, Clarke rubbing her elbow. As Bellamy scrambled up into the space, behind Lincoln's frenzied figure, Clarke's eyes grew wide when she noticed the sword being pressed into the small of Bellamy's back. Her hand dropped from the material of her bomber jackets arm. Bellamy now stood in the dimly lit room, another figure making their way into the enclosed space. Lincoln's body cut through Clarke's sight of the potential threat.

“What now,” Clarke mumbled, her hand now clenched around her handgun. The figure swiftly made their way into the room, a large hood shielding their features. Clarke noticed the familiar clothing of the Tree People, the familiar figure she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Your, friend, is here Clarke. Now tell her to get that sword away from me before I put a bulle-”

“Bellamy,” Clarke cut off the angry rant of the older boy before taking a few steps around Lincoln at a safe distance. Her mind clicked. “Anya,” Clarke began as Anya removed her hood, her prominent features being exposed. Hope filled Clarke’s bones as she noticed that Anya's black eye was almost completely gone. The less formal expression on Anya's face drew Clarke in, wondering if her reason for visiting was something to do with their discussion just less than a week before. Clarke countered and corrected herself, the expression wasn’t less formal; she just noticed how it actually was an expression, not just, well, nothing. 

Anya slightly dropped her chin in acknowledgement. 

“How are you Anya?” 

“I,” she broke off, her eyes shifting to the bound man, “I am fine. Lincoln, he doesn’t look fine. Why is he still alive?”

“I'm going to save him, why are you here?” the conversation was slightly rough but a whole load better than the scrambles and mishaps of the last one. This time there was no fight, no heat, only confusion.

“I have news,” Anya smirked ever so slightly as she saw Clarke's eyes light up, the older boy who stood where Anya's sword had left him noticed it also. Bellamy now regained his former position beside Clarke's side, stepping past Anya.

“Clarke what’s happening?” Bellamy decided to talk, his confusion as to why Clarke actually hadn’t killed the grounder bitch, whom had killed so many of their people, yet was fuelling his anger. 

“You have a chance for your alliance,” Anya spoke over him; Clarke didn’t miss what she had said nevertheless. She was speechless; it was too good to be true, “You must decide on a meeting with Heda, I know you won’t be happy with our terms but, Jus drein, jus draun. Blood, must have blood, Clarke. You must really be willing for this alliance.” Clarke's heart was pounding out of her chest. The possibilities which arose with this alliance made her brain flutter. But, blood must have blood? Clarke's whirring mind came to a sudden halt. She froze and stared at Anya's smug face. 

“Finn.” At this Anya nodded, Bellamy's eyes blowing up, Octavia rushing forward. Clarke's shoulders dropped with the realisation that the grounders wanted him. Bellamy's face was red with anger, Octavia's seemed to not have changed from the stressed look of earlier. Behind them the sudden chaos caused Lincoln to roar like the panthers which roamed the woods. Clarke watched as Anya's eyes flicked up to the restrained man, and then she watched the struggle Anya bared, of trying not to roll them.

“Why have you got a reaper tied up in here?” it sounded like a rhetorical question, as if it was plain obvious that they shouldn’t be foolish enough to even consider doing such a thing. Octavia didn’t even try to cover it as she rolled her eyes, Clarke having to grasp back a smirk as Anya noticed the younger girl defy her. Anya shot a glare at Octavia, instantly getting the same back in return.

“Excuse you, An- er, an-,” Octavia began, then realising she was unsure of the grounders name, peering in Clarke's direction for help. Clarke rolled her eyes this time. 

“Anya.” Clarke confirmed.

Octavia pointed her finger out towards the grounder, “Excuse you Anya, if you don’t think we can save Lincoln, but you might as well keep your condescending comments to yourself.”

Anya merely glanced at the outstretched finger before her eyes landed back on Octavia's. “Ah,” Anya lifted both hands and took a small step back, “My condescending comments are coming only from my prior knowledge, which has been passed down from generation to generation for decades. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?” Clarke bit her tongue as Anya rounded off her rather amusing snapback, deciding to let Octavia finish her own fight. 

There was a long pause as Octavia tried to think of a comeback, her finger still pointed, Anya's hands still rose. “Go float yourself Anya.” As soon as the words had escaped Octavia's mouth, she regretted them. Her cheeks snapped red and the great warrior’s face flew into a mess of confusion; upon seeing this Clarke and Bellamy began to laugh so hard they were bent over. Lincoln thrashed about behind them, as if reminding Octavia why they were there.

This was the first time Clarke had actually laughed so hard her stomach hurt in a long time. Swinging her torso back up, Clarke calmed her breathing, only to see Anya stood there with such a look about her face that Clarke couldn’t help but burst out laughing once again 

“Oi,” Octavia hit Clarke, her rosy face scowling down at her, “Clarke.” 

After her laugher had cleared up, Clarke remembered the duties which were tugging at her back, her shoulders instantly sinking again. Anya stood patiently her arms crossed, Lincoln squirmed beside them. Clarke wiped the tears which clogged her eyes away before glancing at Anya.

“Can’t we discuss another condition, Anya I beg you,” Clarke sudden plead filled the air, bringing the mood down a notch.

“You shouldn’t be begging me Clarke, it is Heda you must work out the conditions with,” Anya uncrossed her arms, “Heda told me to inform you the meeting will be just after then suns peak. If you are willing to attend?” Clarke scanned the sunlight which cast shadows around the space, they all lined up in their positions meaning the sun was currently in the east. She had a few hours yet.

“Where are we meeting? Are they coming here?” Clarke's body shook at the aspect of finally having the chance to become a part of the world she now lives on.

Anya slightly scoffed as she heard Clarke's question. “Heda will set up camp ahead of the high fences of the Sky Crew camp. When the time comes, I will come collect you from your,” Anya paused, looking around as if trying to find the right word, “Compound.” At this Clarke nodded, mentioning a quick thanks to Anya, Lincoln began to thrash about again, cutting off their exchange.

“I better get back to Lincoln, but Anya,” Clarke stopped the woman from turning, “Don’t collect me from Camp Jaha,” she grimaced at the place, “I’ll probably be here.” Anya gave a curt nod before strutting over to the trap door, flinging it open and disappearing into the floor beneath them.

“What the fuck was that Clarke?” Bellamy stormed over to her, anger crushing his features.

“That is the beginning, of everything.” Clarke looked smugly at Bellamy before turning her attention back to Lincoln. “Let’s do this.” She exchanged nods with Octavia, the two of them setting about at their work leaving Bellamy pondering behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOON!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clarke is once again being a badass and saves another life. shit goes down in the dropship...

With each step Lexa took, she felt another jolt of something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, fly through her body. Her senses were high; a smile which she held at bay crept behind her cheeks. She felt ready for anything, but maybe a little out of control. Never in all the years she would live, did Lexa believe she would have to negotiate in such a meeting as the one which drew its first breath that morning. Anya had left at the first lilt of the forest, Lexa accompanying her for a short while, turning back just before they left the perimeter of the guards. The short walk had not burned Lexa's feeling away, nor had the trip to the washhouse. She had scrubbed away the sheen of muck which had accustomed itself to her skin in the firelight of yesterday’s sparring session, finely missing the removal of her ecstatic mood. Before returning to her tent, Lexa had her guard grab her a plate from the cook shed, brimming with fruit and dried meats. Whilst applying her warpaint, Lexa nibbled on this, her stomach not willing to take much. Now she paced. Her feet falling rhythmically in line, she made tracks on the floor of her tent, her mind wandering much further. Today was the day she would meet Clarke, the man who fuelled the burn within her chest; today could be the day she extinguished that fire. The terms of her alliance were simple, even a fool would agree to them. Lexa's mind swirled as she pictured the camp of these sky people, it would be big she imagined, unprotected and vulnerable. They would be vicious people, no consideration for Life’s worth playing a part in their actions. In her visions she depicted a lean man with dark hair and features, one who used fear to rule his followers and uncalled death to frighten his enemies. Lexa heeded his lack of familiarity when it came to war, the small mistakes which lead to hundreds of her people being slain by him. She also latched onto his vulnerability, the rash actions which were only powered by sudden brain power, not experience. This is one advantage Lexa knew she had tucked under her belt when it came to the sky people; she had spent her life practicing how to mask the sounds her feet made in the forest. She had spent her life practicing how to use her head when she needed to most and not be distracted by what her body craved. She had spent her life practicing wielding swords to such a point that she knew how to kill three men in one swing. This Skycrew leader on the contrary, used his instincts, as any animal would. The thing Lexa had learned about following instincts, they always have a predictable pattern. Every animal has its engraved knowledge, whether it is to mother their young in such a way or know exactly where the nearest water supply would be; every animal had its instincts. But from her years tracking, Lexa understood that if you latched onto these systems fast enough, you could break them down and gain every philosophy on that animal. You could learn its nature and slowly but surely hunt the animal. An easy kill, one she couldn’t wait to make.

“Heda,” the young man named Yoso who Lexa had first encountered upon arriving at TonDC stuck his head through her tent flap. Lexa's eyes grew wide with shock as he dragged her from her thoughts. “I'm sorry to just barge in here Heda, but its urgent.” Lexa watched his apprehensive nature and gave a curt nod.

“I’ll be out in a moment.” Lexa waited for Yoso to leave, the flap swaying in the ghost of his presence. Grabbing her sword, sheathed and attached to a leather belt, Lexa fastened the clip which held it to her waist. She patted her thigh and hip, encountering the hidden daggers. On her way out she quickly snatched the hand mirror which lay atop her desk, checking her warpaint was fierce; smirking at herself as she loved how the black really brought out the green within her eyes. 

Once outside, Lexa clocked Yoso stood to attention, waiting beside her guard. The mid-morning bustle of TonDC lightened Lexa's bones as she took a deep breath in through her nose, the scent of life swarming her lungs. “Ioso,” Lexa spoke trigedasleng, nodding at Yoso once again as she approached him. His black hair matted his forehead as he seemed to have been working hard, tending to the horses already. He was from oriental descent, presumably from somewhere such as Japan. Lexa had read plenty of books about life before the war; one of her favourites was the tales of a young Japanese boy, Yoso reminded her of the one in the tale with such a great likeness. His attire stood out in the village, as for he wore a white shirt alongside his black trousers; the warriors who wore their skins and furs glanced condescendingly at the boy but he didn’t ever seem to mind, Lexa admired him for this. “What is it?”

“Onya has returned Heda, she bares news.” Lexa felt her blood pressure rise at the thought of news, her mind gaging Yoso had been sent to fetch her as Anya must be at the stables, and Lexa figured she had a ride coming upon her.

“Mochof Ioso.” He returned a simple duck of his chin, and then paced off towards the stables, Lexa following behind.

∞

“Grab him,” Clarke screamed, the blur which was Lincoln flashing past her. The figure pinned Octavia to the metal panel by her neck, gaping mouth nearing lips which long before had been captured by the very same mouth. The bared teeth just scraped Octavia's neck, drawing back memories of lust; now to be shaken by the snapping of them as they almost latched on her throat. Suddenly the beast was howling, his frame shaking. Clarke held a baton to Lincoln's open back, the electricity crackling his form to the ground. His arms twitched and saliva flicked from his jaw. As fast as he could manage, Bellamy flung the chain which he had crossed over Lincoln's chest into the metal handle which jutted from the floor. Clarke mirrored this action as she securely bound Lincoln's ankles to another hook on the metal floor. Within a minute, the throttling man was secured to the metal floor, only his head free to whip about. Clarke took a step back, her heart rate falling as the sudden panic was restrained. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Octavia; who had now slid down the cool wall, her knees tucked under her chin, almost masking the sorrowful expression on her face. The glazed over eyes avoided Clarke as she made her way beside the dark haired girl. Also sliding down, Clarke placed her arm around Octavia's heated neck and began to slowly sway the pair of them. The morning had been spent developing ideas on how to retrieve Lincoln, how to revert him back from the monster which had overruled the control of his body. That was until, they had gotten comfortable around him, ignoring the thrashing and flailing, one of the hooks which strapped his arm to the wall decided to give in. Instantly his force had exerted enough power to free the other arm; that’s when all chaos had broken loose. Clarke couldn’t even begin to comprehend how broken her friend must be feeling; the love of her life was hidden within the shell of their body. It was sudden and unexpected, and nobody believed he could be retrieved. For many decades had the grounders fought against their own, mutated kind; all with no success. Clarke pressed her fingers under Octavia's china and directed her eyes to her own.

“He will be okay O,” she nodded profusely; “We can do this.” Octavia nodded back, tears forming in her round eyes. Clarke reached up and brushed them away before dragging them both to their feet. Suddenly, the sound of voices outside caught their attention, Bellamy's hand flexed on the gun strapped across his chest. Clarke gave him a warning look before stomping over to the closed trapdoor and swinging it open. “Watch my back,” she glanced at Bellamy, “Carefully.” And with that she was descending down the ladder.

Clarke pushed through the draping fabric of the dropship entrance, the sunlight drawing her eyes almost closed. After the burn had gone, she opened her eyes to see Anya who stood a few feet from the entrance, a black stallion patiently at her side. 

“Hei Klark,” a gruff voice drew Clarke's eyes up to the man atop the horse.

“Nyko, hey,” Clarke smiled. The healer had been one of the first grounders Clarke had encountered. He was a close friend of Lincoln's, a trusted ally in the battle between Clarke's people and his own. His figure almost shrouded the massive stallion, not to mention all the belts which wrapped around his body, holding an array of phials, herbs and other medical supplies. The trigedasleng didn’t go unnoticed as Clarke pinned the translation of her name to the front of her mind. 

“When Naikou heard of Lincoln's position, he felt the need to accompany me here,” Anya mentioned as Nyko dismounted. The pair neared the ship, “Let him see to Lincoln, then we can begin our journey to Heda, the army will be settled across from your camp in just over a candlemark.” Clarke took in the information, her brow creasing as she wondered how her mother would react to her camp being swarmed with grounders. Clarke just nodded, spinning on her heel she retreated into the dropship, the two grounders on her heel.

The humidity in the room had risen, along with the awkward silence, which was being mainly provoked by Bellamy's tight grip on the machine gun. Clarke sauntered over to him, resting a hand on his forearm, the knowing look of trust in her eyes. Bellamy caught it and sighed. He know he should trust Clarke by now, maybe even the grounders too. 

“I'm sorry,” Bellamy dropped Clarke's eye contact and decided to make up for his rash behaviour. His genuine eyes fell upon Nyko, who crouched over the animal who roared like a gorilla. “You and him were close?”

“We were like brothers,” Nyko drew his mouth tight, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. “He always taught me how to use my heart.” At that he glanced at Octavia, who fidgeted with the strap of her vest. Bellamy's eyes followed and his heart sunk at his sister’s despair. Anya stoically rested near the trapdoor, her eyes following everything. Clarke moved away from Bellamy, slightly smiling at him, gracefully as for he was beginning to try to come to peace with these people. She dropped to her knees, just across from Nyko; his dreadlocks slightly fell around the left side of his face, the right side baring the giant emerald tattoo which swirled around his eye. 

“Do you have anything to cure him?” Clarke slightly pleaded; she had grown to admire Lincoln.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, until something sparked in his eyes. Clarke narrowed her eyes at the man’s sudden realisation as he yanked a tiny cylinder bottle from his waist belt. For some reason Clarke's senses perked up, her awareness of everything became highlighted. Curiously, she studied the glass tube. It withheld a copper coloured substance, one she couldn’t quite lay her finger on. She had seen the phial before, it could have been anywhere. Slowly, Nyko brought the uncapped tube so it hovered right above Lincoln's open mouth. Clarke waited, the air in the room pressing in on her. Suddenly Nyko began to speak. “Yu gonplei ste odon.”   
“Wait,” Clarke hollered, her hand shooting forward and grasping the droplet of poison before it could reach Lincoln's mouth. Suddenly Nyko sprinted back, his dagger out and his position ready to lunge. Clarke frowned, her hand had already moved to her gun. Bellamy had his automatic pointed at the healer; Anya had her knife at his throat. Octavia stood defenceless; her dagger was tucked away in her pack. “Yu gonplei ste odon,” Clarke repeated her face lifting as she translated the sentence, “That’s what you say to a person who is dying; tell me that wasn’t poison Nyko.” She glared at the man, who only looked at his feet in return. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she scowled and dropped her hand from her gun, signalling Bellamy to do the same. Reluctantly, Bellamy lowered his weapon, the two grounders following in suit. “Don’t do that again, we have to save him.” Clarke softened her voice, hoping the man had it in him to follow his heart. Nyko spared a glace to Anya, who sheathed her knife before turning to Clarke. 

“We must leave, we have a few things to discuss before you have your meeting with Heda,” she nodded a farewell to the three other people before staring back at Clarke, “Let’s go.” Clarke jumped up and brushed her hands on her black cargo pants. 

“Keep him alive until I get back, if you want this alliance, he needs to be saved.” At this she fluently dropped through the trapdoor with Anya following above her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS!! i hope you all had a good week, next chapter is finally the big reveal, lets see how fast lexa can go from being a savage commander to a thirsty ass gay baby.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> duh duh duhhhhhhhhh!!!!

Raven was stuck. Her eyebrows were flipped up into a messy frown, her bottom lip pushed out. Her hazel eyes, once again, ran across the jumble of letters and numbers desperately trying to make sense of the chemical equation. Her mind was blank. All except from Finn, her mind was totally empty. The image of the grinning boy drew to the front of her mind, a bittersweet memory from upon the arc. At that time they were inseparable; now, they couldn’t be more distant. She sighed and brought the whiteboard marker to her teeth, chewing on the plastic. All that she could think, the only word which made sense to her right now: why? Why did Finn have to have eyes bigger than his stomach? He always ran straight to the thing which was easiest, which was the quickest option, no time to reflect on the damage. When the slight opportunity for him to be unfaithful to Raven dropped in front of him, he had to grasp it. When the opportunity for him to release his anger, for him to just tweak a trigger and let it fizzle away occurred, her did just that. His eagerness for happiness brought about horrendous results; Raven’s heart was shattered, alongside that of Clarke's. Eighteen bodies lay slain, the bodies of the most vulnerable; those who had the years of a grand tree, and those who were only just saplings. All at Finns hand.

A loud whirring caught Raven’s attention and upon peering out of the cabin window, she noticed the humongous gates slowly sliding open. A mob of people began to swarm around these very gates, eruptions of voices drifting to Raven who missed out on the action. Her brow furrowing further, Raven dropped the whiteboard pen and jumped from her seat, her eyes constantly trained on the mess outside. Quickly grasping her red bomber, Raven threw it over her shoulders and rushed through the lab door. Once outside Raven noticed how the swarm had multiplied, she tugged her jacket further around her. The crowd was massive; she presumed most of the sky people were amongst her as she began to push her way to the front. She had to swallow back the bile which rose in her throat, the vacancy of her friends who she had endured her time on this planet still rattled her deep. She would have to get them out of that damn Mountain quick time. Just as she neared the front of the now circle of people, her eyes grew wide, jaw dropping low.

“It’s a miracle.” A woman she barely recognised whispered beside her.

“It’s bullshit.” Raven snapped, a sour taste in her mouth. Ahead of her sauntered Thelonious Jaha; slashed and blue, but defiantly still there. The last she had heard of her former chancellor, he had surrendered himself to space, offering his life to save the others. As far as Raven knew, he was still upon the remaining piece of the Arc, high above their heads; obviously, she was wrong. The racket instantly hushed as Abby, or should she say Chancellor Griffin, stepped into the centre of the circle, the gates finally humming shut as she did. The older woman looked as taken aback as any of the sky people, her hand against her forehead, mouth gaping open as if she was ready to speak, but nothing was coming. Jaha noticed this and running his eyes across the crowd, he began to speak. 

“My people,” he gave a weak smile, “I return baring news. After being held hostage by the grounders, I can confirm that their Commander has agreed to speak to the leader of our people,” Jaha paused, glancing at Abby, who held a muddled look on her face, “The Commander will be setting up camp outside these walls in just under an hour, she will speak with our leader only as I just said.”

“I never agreed to speak with her,” Abby butted in.

“She wants to speak with Clarke.” Jaha softly added, Abby’s face twisting into many different emotions but no more words fell from her wide mouth. Twisting, Raven watched Abby storm out of the crowd, signalling for the guards to escort Jaha to the medics. Grimacing from the dull pain in her hip, Raven suddenly gasped, her shoulders dropping and face baring a huge frown. Abby was clearly storming to Clarke, or so she thought. Raven clucked her tongue at Clarke's mischievous manoeuvre of escaping the wrath earlier this morning. Raven had known something was up when Clarke had asked her to free the fence and help her out. Still rooted to the same spot, just with more free air as the crowd has dispersed, Raven rolled her eyes upon seeing a fuming Abby griffin storm out of the large metal mouth. A few guards tagged along behind the fireball of a woman, who headed directly for the gate, which once again began to slide open. 

“Shit.” Raven mumbled as Abby didn’t take one look back before rushing out into the clearing, the trees soon swallowing her and the three guards up.

∞

Clarke and Anya had been walking at a steady pace for about twenty minutes, the dropship falling away behind them. The trees shushed their conversation; Anya's gentle words of warning were absorbed by the trees which knew of their Heda very well. “Do not try anything,” Clarke could feel Anya's eyes burning a crater in her back as the older woman spoke, “Our Heda is powerful, and when I say powerful I mean I once watched,” a few voices in the distance caught Anya's immediate attention. Grabbing Clarke and whipping to attention, Anya scoured the forest. 

“Over there,” Clarke pointed, her voice blending with the other noises in the forest. As four figures appeared in the far distance, Clarke could only make out three of them; Skycrew guards. They chatted as if there were no threats and their voices carried far in the air. The footsteps of these four figures were as loud as a waterfall, Clarke cringed at their ignorance. The fourth person was a woman Clarke couldn’t make out, but surely recognised. All her might was willing her to move towards the group but a tug on her shirt sleeve from Anya drew her concentration other places. With a sigh, Clarke decided to silently follow Anya's lead towards where the group had been leaving. Once the voices had fallen deep into the distance, Anya begin to finish her anecdote. 

“Heda uncovered a deceitful member in our band of generals, from the Wadakru I suspect,” Clarke's face flooded with confusion, “Water crew,” Anya clarified, a look of surprise rising on Clarke's face, “And challenged him to a weapon fight, now this doesn’t sound too tactful but I assure you, when I tell you that the burly general wouldn’t agree unless it was on a flimsy little rowing boat and my second agreed to the battle you will understand. See Heda is originally from the Trikru territory, little time is spent on such vessels. But when I stood at the shore and watched the Commander manoeuvre around the tipsy wood, easily slaying and making the man who had grown upon such a platform confess to his untrustworthy deeds, that’s when many truly believed our Heda is the most powerful to live. So Clarke, kom Skikru, do not think you can outfight, or even outwit our Heda.” 

Clarke bared a slight smile at the proud mumbling Anya had resorted to; the woman seemed a total opposite to the one Clarke had fought only a week ago. She was strong willed and ready to fight and sacrifice, but also human. Clarke had taken such a long time to come to terms with this but watching Anya, who had now taken the lead, she truly saw it. Her mind spun off track, an image of what she decided the grounder Commander would look like stuck in her mind. He was large and gruff, built like the muscle men Clarke had seen in pre-war magazines. His body would be littered with tattoos and scars; kill marks which determined his worth. He would maybe have a bristling beard, and maybe even a kind heart. Clarke doubted it, how someone could use love and still manage to have so many willing to risk their lives for you. It seemed much more likely he would use fear to command these people. Clarke hoped they would choose the same path and work together to sort this shit storm out. A deep sigh escaped Clarke's mouth as she came out of her daydream. She caught up with Anya, the wolf like woman glaring at her when her foot snapped a dry branch; Clarke decided to try figure out as much as she could about the traditions of the Tree Crew culture for the remaining twenty minutes or so of their walk. Anya and she's voices danced around under the cold sun, their destination becoming ever so much closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! i hope you enjoy all these damn problematic characters cause i sure do. i also know that i said this chapter was going to be the first clarke x lexa scene, but i seemed to have been mistaken, you can all scream at me im sorry.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THEY FINALLY MEET !!!!!  
> AMEN !!!!!

Abby didn’t make any attempt to be quiet as she rushed through the dropship, which beckoned a curious looking Bellamy Blake to emerge from the top ladder. He pointed a gun at Abby but instantly lowered it and his head. 

“Where’s Clarke?” Abby crossed her arms, not covering the obvious annoyance which riddled her posture. Just as Bellamy opened his mouth to reply, a loud roar echoed from above him, his face instantly flashing with guilt. “What the hell was that?” Abby commanded. Bellamy decided to keep his mouth closed this time. Upon seeing this, Abby strutted over to the ladder which Bellamy hung to, beginning to make her way up it. Bellamy blocked her view and didn’t shift from her entrance, still not opening his mouth. “Move out of my way Bellamy, I have guards with me.” Abby decided that using her power as chancellor couldn’t fail. It made her skin crawl when she had to use her power against the people she had come to like, but she knew it was only for the greater good. A war of emotions played over Bellamy's face before he began to move.

“They stay down here,” he flicked his head in the direction of the three guards, “It is safe as long as you promise to do as we say.” The unimpressed expression which was sewn into Abby’s face subsided as she pursed her lips and nodded, taking off up the ladder as she made sure her guards knew not to follow. 

Octavia's face fell ill with pure shock as she witnessed Clarke's mother, who had locked them up only the night before, enter the top floor of the dropship where they had two grounders one of which was strapped to the floor and viciously throttling his head about. Abby’s face turned slightly paler than normal as she realised how ignorant she was. Clarke was far more than capable of looking after herself, and others. She spotted Clarke's rucksack left jarred open, her medical supplies spilling out of it. Clarke was nowhere to be seen.

“She left about fifty minutes ago,” Octavia muttered, stirring Lincoln up, Abby backing away slightly. Gustus shifted around Lincoln, carrying on with his examination of the shaking body, “She was heading to camp, with Anya.” Octavia finished. “Wait,” she blurted as Abby swung on her heel, ready to trek back to wherever the hell her daughter was, “You won’t catch her, she's busy and there’s someone here I want you to meet,” all the information had Abby's head spinning. Bellamy decided to clear it all up.

“Clarke has a meeting with the Heda, Commander of the grounders,” Abby nodded, already knowing this, “She's probably already there by now, you cannot try disturb it because this may mean peace with the people who rule this land Abby, also you wouldn’t make it in time, she will have done the deed by the time you return anyway.”

“I'm the leader, I should be the one talking to the Commander.” Abby subconsciously muttered.

“You are nobody. Klark however, is the one face all grounders across the land know. She is your leader, even if you hold the title in your community.” Gustus stated this fact, his eyes sorrowful to break the news to Clarke's mother. Her eyes filled with an unreadable expression as she brought her hand to her chin, her other resting on her hip. Slowly she turned around, her back facing the members of the room for a second before she turned back around.

“She’s only a child,” Abby spat the words, less with vengeance, more with pain for her daughters wellbeing. 

“She is a leader.” Octavia dropped the truth, Lincoln breaking the conversation with his howls. Octavia bit her lip and glanced at the man, her eyes falling back into Abby’s. Slowly she introduced the grounder healer and skycrew medic, beginning to explain the situation. Abby listened attentively, a pit in her stomach. When Octavia described Clarke's plan Abby nodded, proud of how true Octavia was when she told of Clarke's true abilities to lead. The group of people began to work together and decided to continue with the plan until Clarke's arrival. Hopefully Abby would be meeting the Commander today, if Clarke's plans succeeded.

∞

Distant yells almost slipped behind the nearby clinking of armour which engulfed Clarke. Alone as she felt, men made of mountains, baring blades bigger than the trees of Clarke's home, surrounded her. Other than these mountains and these trees, the open air pressed down on Clarke, the burning desire to whip around and sprint into the forest ran deep in Clarke's bones. She pictured the masked grounders having a look of surprise sheathed beneath their ferocious face-pieces as their eyes latched onto the flowing blonde hair being carried by the wind, straight past the heavy metal beast which loomed behind them. Before, when Clarke had been led by the grounders, her attention had fallen onto the crowd of faces, hidden behind their buzzing fence. As Clarke's lead soles trampled up the steep gradient, a dark fabric structure drew Clarke's head from the clouds. Brushing the risen bile down her throat, Clarke observed her surroundings; or she would have if her view wasn’t blocked by the sea of huge warriors, lining the path to their mighty commander. Their garments were extravagant, indescribable, and fearsome. They bore them with pride, an unusual concept to Clarke due to her experiences upon the Arc; clothes were on shortage and often passed down from each generation. As anyone could guess, this meant no child really wanted these clothes that had been worn by their late grandmother perhaps, but hey, when you live in space it’s not like fashion is your main priority. 

Anya stole along beside Clarke, without her Clarke imagined she would drift off back up into space. She was the only familiar face in the massive congressing crowd which had formed outside the secure perimeter of Camp Jaha. Just as this thought passed through Clarke's mind, irony decided to rip it to shambles. Whipping her head around, Clarke noticed Anya had halted a few steps back whilst her daydream had occupied her, and when the two made eye contact, the general only gave a curt nod to signal Clarke into continuing her journey. As Clarke's eyes slightly widened, Anya was swallowed into the gathering of warriors which heeded Clarke forward, toward the gloomy looking tent. Clenching her fists, Clarke inhaled deeply the nerves still twitching away throughout her body. The sky was light but torches were still lit on either side of the fabric, their wooden handles sticking out of fleshy holders. As Clarke's eyes ran across the scene, they landed on a very tense looking Indra, the woman who occasionally made contact with the Sky people. Clarke recalled how Octavia was the first to mention the smaller woman, describing the vivid details of the gash which had formed a trophy worthy scar curving around her eye socket. At her right appeared to be an opening in the carnage of heavy blankets, which explained to Clarke why Indra gripped her spear so viciously. Opposed to Indra, another mountain stood. Clarke had killed a man who was as large as he. Stepping forward, the man loomed above Clarke. She noticed his clothing was in a similar fashion to that of the other warriors but just like she had noticed with Anya's, it was a little better presented; whether it be due to the richer colours or the more detailed swirls on the dagger, Clarke guessed he must be one of the Commander’s generals. There was a ghost of blue patterns engraved across his face, Clarke's mind flashed back to Gustus. The section of his worn face which didn’t hold any tattoos, that were visible, was shrouded in a beard, the bristly hairs as dark as the tree bark. His hair was threaded back atop his scalp, the sides were cleanly shaved.

“If you so much look at her the wrong way,” Clarke barely heard his words, as for her focus had shifted to how soft the gruff voice of this beastly man was. She saw something in his eyes she recognised. It seemed a foreign concept for the grounders to care, from Clarke's previous knowledge, but this man had concern in his eyes. Whether it is for Clarke or his Commander sent a shudder down Clarke's spine. “I will slit your throat.” Clarke clearly heard this part. She sharply inhaled as the man retraced his steps and lifted the flap. A slight shove from behind jolted Clarke and she began to stumble forward, her mind only just picking up on the pronoun he had used; her. 

∞

Lexa listened attentively as three pairs of footsteps fell ahead of her. The clattering of her warriors outside of the tent pierced the flimsy walls which allowed enough sunlight from the dim day in to make everything visible. She kept her eyes trained on the tip of her black boot, an almost hidden dagger poking from the side of her foot. Lexa swallowed as she twisted her favourite dagger between her skilled fingers. Her throne empowered her; it reached, what seemed, as high as the trees in her forest. The delicate wooden vines, of which her back rested against, spiralled up above her head, the illusion of a tree forming in the woodwork. Sharpened blades were intertwined with her throne.

At her left, Anya watched over. Lexa's eyes burned to look up, to latch onto the face of the human she would one day slaughter, but no. The fiddling with the dagger helped. As she now focused on her night black trousers, Indra's knowing boots stalked up to the other side of the mighty throne; confirming Klark kom Skikru was in her presence. Lexa tensed her jaw, then begun. “You're the one, who burned three hundred of my warriors alive,” At these words, Lexa's blood heated, the images of destruction flashing through her mind. Now unable to wait much longer to see the killer, Lexa decided to break away from her tactic from before, the one of not caring to pay much attention. Lexa almost dropped her dagger. In a split second, Lexa had masked any impression of shock that might have been riddled into her features; her dagger was once again twisting between her hands. Lexa over paced herself and slipped the daggers blade, a small nick cutting the skin of her fingertip. She internally winced but her eyes never left Clarke. A flash of light snuck through the tent flap which had not fully closed behind them. Ahead of Lexa there stood a girl. With blonde, flowing hair and prominent features, sprinkled with blade shaped scabs. Lexa's mouth had long ago dried up.

∞

“You're the one who sent them there to kill us.” Clarke bit her tongue as soon as the words had slipped from her mouth. She knew that if she slightly overstepped the line, her people would never even see her body being removed from that tent. But then again, she needed to prove to the commander her fearlessness. The girl who proudly filled the space Clarke imagined would be taken by a much butcher human. Nevertheless, this Commander who eyed the blonde so relentlessly set as much fear into Clarke. Her piercing eyes were set in a face of beauty; Clarke remembered not to let anything draw her mind away from how ruthless the Commander must be. The woman’s warpaint told stories of bloodbaths and patriotic devotion, it danced almost rhythmically over her cheekbones, the longest strip of black just kissing the prominent jawline which Clarke noticed had been clamped tense. 

“I need answers,” the Commander stabbed the tip of her blade into the armrest of the throne, making Clarke's eyes blink shut although her face remained unaltered. Neither Anya nor Indra moved a muscle. Clarke once again bit her tongue as a sneer rolled through her mouth. She wants answers? Clarke refrained from laughing at how many answers she needed, maybe to start off with the woman's name. “Do you have answers for me, Klark kom Skikru?” 

“If you want answers, you need to ask me some questions.” Shit. Once again, Clarke found herself tasting copper, having to hide the wince as the pit of her stomach dropped. She glanced at Anya, the woman's eyebrow cocked as their eyes made contact. The Commander slightly narrowed her eyes whilst Indra inhaled deeply, flicking her head to the side, the smaller woman clearly distressed. When the Commander didn’t speak Clarke's face twisted into an unintentional mocking face of confusion. Instantly Clarke tried to draw it back, but the damage had been done. Indra rushed forward, babbling in the grounder language Clarke had picked up on.

“Teik ai frag em op en dison laik odon.” Let me kill her and get this over with. 

Clarke resisted the urge to rush backwards as the ball of fury stormed towards her. “Indra,” Clarke heard the Commander snarl behind the woman who was now inches from her face. 

“Yu fraga.” Murderer. Indra spat the words, the hot air clouding Clarke's mind temporarily. 

“Gona?” warrior? Clarke questioned, Indra's eyebrows creasing as Clarke's tongue spoke trigedasleng. 

“Indra, plenti!” enough. The Commanders fury echoed throughout the tent. As Indra sucked her cheeks in and withdrew, the man who had threatened Clarke earlier came rushing in to the tent. Lexa remained in her throne, her hand throwing the signal of safety to the big man. Silently, Clarke tried to control her breathing, her hands clenching into fists behind her back; if her face hadn’t been screwed up into an anger riddled expression before, it surely was now.   
When the tent was settled, all except for the buzz in the air, Clarke heard the Commanders sparking voice again. “Why should I agree to this, alliance,” at the last word, the Commander flicked her dagger from her left hand to her right, her eyes never left Clarke, “When your people seem so desperate to kill mine?”

Clarke's jaw clasped so tight she almost winced as she heard the Commander mutter these words. She drew in a deep breath in, the cool air almost calming the raising temperature of her blood but not quite latching onto it as Clarke felt her face redden slightly. The ignorance of the Commander fuelled a fire in the pit of her stomach which heated the bitter response that Clarke managed to keep to herself by biting her tongue. The way the Commander had worded it clearly gave the evidence of the misunderstanding between the two leaders; a misunderstanding which had caused the many nauseating nights spent awake by both women, the fear of death plaguing their closest riddled into their hearts. Composing herself, Clarke swallowed, her thirst was unbelievable. “Tell me one thing,” the phrase was composed as a question, the brutal force of Clarke's tongue pushing it past that, “if you were in my boots, having been sent to a land of which you had never thought possible, a place where you are finally free, to then see a spear get thrusted through the chest of one of your best friends, would you or would you not try to fight whoever, whatever had done it back?” Feeling more stable, Clarke crossed her arms, putting her weight onto her left leg.

∞

Lexa slouched slightly in her throne she had her arms on each piece of wood which jutted just far enough for her to rest her elbows on; her midriff exposed. It was not for her comfort, but to prove to this Clarke girl that she wasn’t threatened by her. Threatened was definitely the wrong way to describe the affect the other girl had on Lexa; or maybe it was the perfect way. The moment Clarke had stepped into the tent did Lexa's wall of certainty within herself come crashing down. “I know not of your stories, Clarke, but only of your kills. I understand that this has become a war of kind, clan versus clan; as history has proven, it always happens, but you still haven’t answered my question.” The blonde remained silent, “As Heda, I devote everything to ensuring my people are safe, I could easily just wipe all of yours out tonight; the threat is then gone, I coul - ”

“I know how to fell the mountain.” The other woman interjected; Lexa felt Indra tense up beside her. The words echoed in Lexa's head, Clarke's smooth voice pinning them to the front of her mind. In response, Lexa lifted her eyebrow but held her lips shut. The talk of conquering the mountain was almost absurd to any ears which had lived long enough to understand the power of the rocky shadow which loomed over Lexa's lands. The only little slither of belief which had Lexa actually surveying her options about Clarke's proposition was the knowledge she had of how the blonde and Anya had escaped from their tomb. Lexa was switched on enough to know anything could be possible. She hoped Clarke understood that too.

“Continue.” Lexa murmured; her mind as deep in thought as her stare which penetrated Clarke, making the other girl feel powerless in its heavy wake. 

Lexa's eyes followed Clarke's neck as it bobbled up and down with her gulp, before they traced her impeccable jawline to her lips. This time Lexa swallowed. “Both of our people are being held in that godforsaken mountain, I think I have a way to turn one of their number one weapons against themselves.” Lexa's mind fogged over with the image of Anya stumbling through the bush towards her after escaping the mountain. Goosebumps hid themselves under Lexa's dark coat. “I think I can turn reapers back into humans.”

The dagger froze between Lexa's fingers and the worn away wood of the throne arm from the continual spinning of the sharpened point against the hard wood. A twang of emotion fired off inside of her chest. Images of people she had once known, now lost in the unforgiving tunnels under the mountain flashed off in her mind. “Prove it.” Lexa unintentionally spat the words, her demeanour appearing to be cutting and salty, at least this Clarke girl would know how tense Lexa could become if the situation ever called. Licking her lips, Lexa's eyes remained on Clarke as she once again began to whirl the weapon on the tips of her fingers. Lexa took account of Clarke's small jacket, with the weather about to unleash its harsh reign upon their people; Clarke would surely feel the bite. It was certain to Lexa that the skycrew were unprepared for yet another battle heading their way in the form of winds from the north and limited food to scavenge. If this war didn’t break the newly earthed clan then the weather surely would. That was if Lexa didn’t agree to Clarke's prosperous plans of a Mountain free future, because in that case then maybe, just maybe Lexa could spare a few of her clothes for Clarke. “I, hopefully, can do that. But you will have to come with me,” Clarke stepped forward, “To the dropship.” she thrust her hands in her jacket pockets.

“Are you sure?” Anya's voice broke through Lexa's dedicated focus on the blonde, and she was about to answer, that was until it occurred to her the question was aimed where her focus had just been. Lexa shifted slightly in her throne, her eyes landing on Anya who now stared at Clarke. Flicking her head back around, Lexa just caught Clarke giving Anya a brisk but seemingly undetermined nod. 

Clarke decided to speak up again, “If you do come, it has to be now. Anya can come along too but I need you to trust me.” Lexa's eyes fell into place with Clarke's, which were now altered to what they had been before. This time they were massive, so soft and gentle; they seemed to be pleading with Lexa herself, drawing a nod from the Commander without giving her much thought into the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i managed to do this chapter justice for everyone due to the long wait, nevertheless, please leave comments on how you felt about it as i love hearing from all of you!!   
> if any of you were wondering, my tumblr is @yesokahhy ; which is filled with top quality clexa memes not going to lie theyre 10/10


	12. Chapter 12

The thunderous snaps which flew past Clarke's ears flooded her body with more and more dread each time a new sound arose. She couldn’t tell anymore if the cracking sound was from the dry branches she trampled over or from the electric atmosphere which surrounded her small party. If her heavy eyes had been closed for more than a split second she could have been tricked into the sense of only her presence; but as she knew otherwise, the ghoulish footsteps of the two women beside her slightly disturbed her. If they managed to be invisible to Clarke even though they stood beside it, what other unseen dangers could be quite easily lurking between the trees in which she ploughed. Stopping the group just before a slight slope, the view of the trees waned off and the rectangular metal beast filled Clarke's sights. The damage from impact had destroyed the surrounding nature; the dust of Lexa's warriors clouded the earth’s crust. The only remaining form of life that was visible near the hulk of metal was the stoic horse which didn’t stir upon the groups’ presence.

“You lived in this alongside one hundred other people?” the Commander, of whose name Clarke still didn’t know, questioned; it may have seemed to be a mocking question from leader to leader in any other tone but as the grounder Heda portrayed it with such respect and actual curiosity, Clarke didn’t bother taking it as a sneer.

“Took some adjusting after being in solitude for three years, I can assure you.” With this Clarke cocked her brow at the puzzled looking brunette and cut her way down the beaten track. As her boots compressed the mud beneath them, Clarke's mind fuzzed over with the ghosts of past events at the dropship. Ahead, her vision painted her old best friend, the boy whose grave she had dug herself, strewn on the floor with a smashed ankle, a looming group of Bellamy’s squad around him; she also saw Finn jump to his rescue from the now charred pipe on the face of the ship. That was the first day on the ground. She remembers Well’s face as he lays there, the same face as when Clarke had dug into him about her father’s death, when they were hiding out from the acid fog in a buried car; a face of fear. A twang of pain ripped through Clarke's chest, she wished Well’s hadn’t taken it upon himself to let Clarke blame him for her father’s execution; she wished she had forgiven him sooner. A little reassurance kept her glued together; he hadn’t died with her hating him. Another picture flashed before her eyes, one of a gagged and bound Murphy, being tossed down the very same slope on which she walked; a punishment for an act he didn’t commit. Although he may have been a cocky, quick heated bully, he didn’t deserve the near death experience which Clarke had the power to halt. But she didn’t. She bit her tongue as regrets once again bounced around her mind.

The grating of a sword being removed rapidly from its sheath dragged Clarke's attention back to the airy day which surrounded her. She noticed the Commander had drawn her weapon, but didn’t stand in a fighting posture. Instead she noticed the Commander laid her rather massive piece of sharpened metal at her feet and watched as Anya sighed, glancing at the Commander before doing the same. The two had tucked their weapons beside the horse, ensuring they would be there to be collected at the end of this unplanned ordeal. Just as the Commander regained her straight posture, clasping her hands together behind her black, ground scraping coat, Bellamy Blake’s loud boots emerged from the array of red fabric which hung from the entrance of the ship. Clarke noticed the colour drain from the Commanders face as her emerald eyes latched onto the hulk of automatic weaponry in Bellamy's hand. Clarke wasn’t the only one as Anya's eyes flicked between the Commander and the curly haired boy, clearly the Commander knew of the consequences of the dark grey wretch and Clarke figured the Commander wasn’t someone to be reckoned with when it came to weaponry. “Bell put down your gun,” Clarke served her welcome with the certain look which Bellamy knew, one which Bell knew not to argue against, stepping up onto the automatic drop door of the ship, which jutted far out from its chunky, charcoaled exterior. She leaned in close to him, the other two further behind and out of ears reach, “Be respectful, we can’t mess this up,” their eyes connected, “Not after all we have fought for.” Clarke watched as her words sunk into Bellamy’s skin, his furrowed brow loosening and his head beginning to nod. She backed up a bit as he unslung the strap from the gun off of his chest, and upon making eye contact with the Commander, gently placed it on the floor. She gave him a curt nod of thanks as he took a step back with his hands still raised. “Well then,” Clarke turned towards the two other women, and upon signalling to Anya it was time, exclaimed, “Welcome aboard.” 

As the pair, behind Clarke, made their way through the curtain which cut off the nature outside, all she could do was pray everything was going to work out.

∞

The image of Clarke was washed out of Lexa's head as soon as her eyes fell on the shambles which spilled out across the top floor of the metal cage. Bound to the floor like a lab rat, a reaper who Lexa couldn’t tell whether it was frozen due to its restraints or another matter laid, at the feet of the Skycrew members and the Trikru healer who rested heavily near its head. A hunched girl quaked over the motionless body, rabid sobs resonating from her curled lips. Upon this, Lexa's eyes darted upwards, landing on Clarke who held her hands out, frozen, as if trying to hush the girl in fear of the Commander finding out anything Clarke wished she didn’t. Clarke's face was shattered, the lost hope dripping from her eyes. Her mouth gaped open, unspoken sentences flowing out, guiding Lexa to her decision. “I am the commander,” Lexa bit down her authority, over the skycrew members who clearly had deceived her, “And your time is up.” 

These words drew all the eyes inside the dropship upon her, all except one pair. Lexa quickly counted the headcount; besides Anya and the healer, whose name she remembered as Nyko, there were four skycrew members in the confined room. Clarke, obviously, and the weeping girl, whose sorrowful eyes pleaded with the Commander, the dark haired boy who had left his weapon outside, and an older woman, whose hair was constructed similarly to Clarke's. Lexa hid her nerve under her tall stance, and with a glance at Anya, it nearly cracked. She knew the other woman well; she was the only true friend Lexa had ever known, meaning Lexa could decipher when something wasn’t right. The tensing of Anya's jaw, and the slight tightness of her eyes proved to Lexa how much Anya had believed in Clarke, even if only a week before they had been at war against one another. Lexa also knew of Anya's prowess in finding trustworthy people, many of her alliances and negotiations had been under Anya's hidden overview. It really shook Lexa, the thought of once again having to take matters into her own hands, regardless of Anya or not. Clarke had offered an alliance, built upon the foundation of ‘changing reapers’, and as Lexa knew all too well, nothing could change death. The reaper, who was chained to the metal ground, seemed all too lifeless for Lexa to presume Clarke had the intentions of this happening. She couldn’t trust someone whose plan was holding onto the edge of the cliff with one single finger, because as it seemed here, that finger had given in before anything could be done. It wasn’t the right choice for any Commander to make. 

The seconds ticked by, the ever stuffier silence growing as Lexa's eyes flicked around the room, latching onto the secretive movements of the lean boy across the room to her. Discreetly, his hand was edging behind him, his eyes focused all too hard on the motionless Clarke who just stared at the body which rested at her feet. Lexa didn’t show her alarm as for most eyes still remained on her. Taking the best option, Lexa turned her head to Anya, who instantly grasped her eye contact. Slightly Lexa's eyes widened, Anya understanding straight away. Lexa noticed a look she had never noticed in Anya's wolf like eyes before; hesitation. Lexa's face dropped into a slightly sympathetic look as Anya's hardened, remembering her true intentions for her own people. “Let’s do this.” Lexa spat, not wanting the words to jump back into her mouth. 

In a flash, Lexa had grabbed the hidden knife from her thigh, Anya doing the same. Their bodies were thrown into the exact same stance, ready to slaughter the unprepared skycrew, Lexa hates betrayals. Taking a deep inhale, Lexa prepared for the dropship to become a bloodbath.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh oh

“Let’s do this.” The Commander’s words sparked the ignition. From the corner of her eye, Clarke had noticed both the grounder leader and the woman who had trained her, jump into a lethal stance. All of Clarke's attention would have been on the, essentially, deadly threat, but it had been captured elsewhere. In that split second, her eyes had landed on her mother who dived onto the floor, grabbing a discarded baton that a guard must have forgotten about, a time ago. Nyko was on his broad feet, his hands held before him, in a practised stance. Bellamy had revealed a handgun, his steady hand pointing at the Commander. Clarke felt her heart stumble a slight bit. It was a Mexican stand-off, in which she was defenceless. Heavy breathing ran through the air, every set of eyes jumping about wildly, trying to find a gap in the defences of the other people amongst them. Goosebumps rose on Clarke's skin as the temperature dropped, her heart rate having the negative affect. Nobody moved. A small clatter sent all eyes flying to the metal flap which slammed shut, the wind outside knocking the metal shutter from its latch, the room dimmed down a notch. 

“Everybody,” Clarke swallowed hard as she used her only weapon, her voice, “Stop,” she stepped forward, the ice beneath her feet developing a hairline crack. She licked her desert-like lips, “This doesn’t need to happe-”

“I wish you were wrong,” the Commander cut her short, “But you lied, that reaper is dead. And unless you're just about to drag another one out from that trapdoor,” the Commanders words were only true, “There is no way you can prove your abilities.” 

Clarke's mind began to whir; she knew she needed a plan, quick time. Within seconds a lightbulb appeared over Clarke's head, “Unless,” her shoulders dropped and spinning on her heel, she excitedly exclaimed at her mother, “We bring him back!” Clarke's face had lit up as the others had twisted up in confusion. Her hands were held out, this time in desperation as she signalled at the extended baton her mother grasped so tight. Suddenly, Abby hit the same wavelength. Both pairs of eyes shooting wide, Abby furiously nodded, and with no further haste, dived forward. Everyone in the room shifted, Clarke took a step back, Lexa and Anya shifted forward, only stopping as Bellamy grunted and waved them back with his piece, a target on both of their heads. All eyes soared to the loud sizzled that danced through the room. Octavia had shuffled backwards, out of Abby’s way, as for the woman had flung both arms over her head, dramatically slamming the tip of the baton onto Lincoln's still chest. As her thumb pressed down hard on the button contained bolts of lightning shot down the shiny rod, sending the man’s chest into a fit of spasms. Clarke shared a glance at the Commander, whose mouth hung open; her stance lacking posture, all focus was on the scene before them. As the buzz fizzled out of the air, Lincoln didn’t stir. Clarke swallowed, “Hit him again.” She ordered, desperation radiating from her body. Abby once again drew back her arms, heavily bringing to baton to the man’s chest. A streak of sunlight shifted across Lincoln's torso, which shook with the current Abby was sending into it. The zapping sound filled everyone’s ears, until it dies away, and a faint whimpering rose from the aftermath of the electricity. 

“Lincoln!” leaving no time at all, Octavia flung herself forward, cradling Lincoln's head as his eyes drew open, his rushed breathing ricocheting around the otherwise silent room. Clarke released a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding as the man uttered a word, a name.

“Oct-tavia.” Clarke nearly begun to shake with joy as her younger friend dived forward, embracing her love who relished in his own luck. Her blue eyes fell on her mother who had a large grin stretched out on her face, which came rushing forward at Clarke as they joined in a tight hug. 

“I shouldn’t underestimate you.” Abby whispered these words, so quietly Clarke only just caught them, into her daughter’s hair. Clarke let herself slightly melt into the embrace for a nanosecond as she had almost grown foreign to her mother’s arms, before remembering they also had company. Drawing back, Clarke observed the Commander and Anya with a smug face. The Commander held her rigid structure, her dagger once again concealed, hands tucked behind her back. Anya was stood with a gaping mouth, which she quickly snapped shut upon realising it.

“Klark kom Skikru, you have proved your skills, your talents are strangers to my people, but now, I hope you can teach them your way,” she curtly nodded, Clarke's expectant eyes capturing every movement, “But there is still one last term before this alliance becomes final, we must avenge the dead,” Clarke felt her shoulders drop, “You must give me Finn.”

∞

Clarke. Clarke. Clarke. Clarke. The name resonated through Lexa's head, with ever footstep she took. Clarke. Clarke. Clarke. Clarke. The name hung around in the mumbles of her warriors surrounding her pathway to her tent. It had been a few hours since Lexa had returned from facing the fear which had rattled her that morning; the fear of finally meeting the powerful leader of a new, dangerous clan. That fear had been quickly diminished, the glowing embers igniting a new feeling in the ashes left in Lexa's stomach. Lexa passed through the flap of her own tent, residing to her furs; her mind not wanting to settle, unlike her body. She let her armour clad body sink into the soft animal hides. The feeling in her stomach was weird; it felt more a mix of feelings. And this is what Lexa feared the most. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the turmoil in her brain. It felt as if she was hanging on to a tree branch by her fingers. Now this tree branch was positioned high, above a large swirling pool of emotions. From this view, Lexa could see the vulnerable people below her on the shore of this pool. They dared to wade into these emotions, like Lexa had been taught not to, countless times before. But from her position, right above the deepest part of the pool, she couldn’t help them. One slight slip up from Lexa, her fingers would slide from the rough bark which she grasped, sending her plunging right into the deep emotions. These people defied the rules her culture had taught, as they decided to swim out deeper. At this point their feet did not touch the floor; instead they paddled to keep their smiling heads above the water. Lexa felt the burn in her arms which she had grown used to as she dangled above them. She considered how bad it really could be, compared what she had been told growing up and the genuine happiness she saw splashed out on the faces of these people. But as her eyes followed their bobbling heads; the atmosphere switched, accompanied by a cracking bolt of lightning which flew through the sky. Suddenly the pool of emotions was no longer so simply smooth. The people in the water wailed with thrashing arms, their smiles now stretched into grimaces which Lexa had witnessed so many times before. Rain poured around her. It lubricated the branch which supported her, the water coming between her fingers and the wood. Panic filled her bones. The screams of the innocent beneath her, who had swum too deep and couldn’t go back now things weren’t easy echoed past Lexa's ears as she focused all her attention on the branch above her. Slowly she was losing her control. The rain continued to fall, as did her fingers, which were white with struggle. Another crack of lightening flashed past Lexa, drawing a scream from within her. Her fingers left the branch. Her body was falling. Her eyes still attached to the branch, Lexa now saw Clarke perched where she had been, before the blonde jumped too. Lexa's vision went black as the water swallowed her whole.

Jolting forward, Lexa's heavy breathing quaked in her chest. She glanced around, her chest heaving. A slight tear streak cut through one patch of her warpaint. Realising she had fallen asleep, and using the light which shone through her tent as a guide to what time it was, Lexa remembered how she had gone to rest after negotiating with the Skycrew leader. Clarke. Quickly taking a deep breath and momentarily closing her heavy eyes, Clarke's face as she perched on the branch staring down at her flashing across her mind, Lexa stretched out her arms and jumped up off the furs, hoping her missing presence had gone unnoticed. She sauntered over to her sword which rested against a large trunk of her stuff she had placed in her tent while she had been at the dropship. Grabbing it, and strapping it to her belt, Lexa made her way outside, the white sky making her squint slightly. Ahead of her was the grand structure which now marked her lands, baring a large sign reading ‘Camp Jaha’. It amazed her how the small people, in the distance, who swarmed around the hexagonal-shaped building, had managed to live their whole lives encased in such a small area. She recalled the name Jaha, being the broad, intellectual man of whom she had previously held at knife-point. She very nearly made herself laugh sometimes. As always, she held her plain gaze, and upon glancing around the temporary encampment upon the hill, she couldn’t seem to see Anya. Internally sighing, Lexa hastily adjusted the black, fingerless glove which she wore on her right hand; long gone were her days of putting up with the endless blisters from wielding her weapons. Drawing her attention back from her hand, Lexa only just acknowledged the bounty of army men who had been scouted on this mission. Granted, it was a spectacular set of events, never could any of her former leaders have guessed to maybe have one day been in this position, but alas here she was, her army seemingly happy to be involved in the revolutionary awakening which was called; Skycrew. With habit, Lexa's palm rested on her sword hilt, her fingers coming to wrap around the rough surface. As she blinked a familiar image flashed across her mind. She was once again hanging. There was a scream. She hastily re-opened her eyes, which fell directly on ‘Camp Jaha’. Deciding to brush past, yet another, nightmare flashback, Lexa was slightly in awe at the amount of trees which had been blasted back from the landing of the metal. There was a wide circumference, one which bustling groups of her warrior and guard mingled; their tents and torches filling the gaps. Lexa's eyes finally began to run along the fence. It reminded her slightly of the high walls which surrounded the capital, and the bittersweet taste of reminiscence filled her mouth. Polis was a safe place for Lexa; it always had been due to its sturdy walls and well trained guards. Her guards were perched high on this wall, a rotating timetable for their duty; much like that of the guards who surrounded the Camp. The Skycrew guards rested in high metal stands, resembling those attached to the Polis wall. The only difference being, her wall, it was packed out with stone, heavy slabs no army could move. Whereas this fence, it seemed all to flimsy with its thin metal wires; anyone could easily climb between them. But Lexa had initiative; she knew the Skycrew had some sense, and it’s not like she had never heard of an electric fence before. Only she had never seen one, except for in pictures, but they hardly compared to the monstrosity which sat before her.

Suddenly a flash of colour in the area behind the thin metal caught her eye. Like the many torches before her, this beacon shined out bright. Except it was hair, blonde hair. Although small, Lexa could make out Clarke in the distance, her mother ahead of her. As Lexa strained to see, a tense looking scenario played out before her. Clarke was very still, her arms were tightly crossed. On the other hand, her mother was flailing her arms around, causing a scene not only amongst her own people, but also catching the attention of Lexa's too. Slightly pursing her lips, Lexa rapidly eyed her warriors, who stirred with the quarrel; deciding they could manage not to cause a scene of their own, Lexa's eyes flicked back to the Skycrew leader, who then snatched her mother’s arm and began to drag her towards the round portal which reminded Lexa of the hatch-door in the dropship. Shaking her head slightly, she knew she would soon have to delve into the politics of the Skycrew, if she was to know the traits of the partners in her newly clad alliance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Since i now make sure to post a new chapter every thursday, it really really makes those days in between so great when i get a notification through saying people have commented on my work. I just wanted to thank those of you who do leave your thoughts in comments, i also just want to say thanks to everyone who is reading this; it makes me feel all giddy just knowing that people are reading my work :) so merci


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ah the pressures of being the leaders of the whole fucking world

Clarke huffed, leaning against the metal bedframe on which Lincoln sat. The familiar smell of the medical ward gassed Clarke's mind as she tried to block out the chaos which had erupted around her after one word had slipped from her mouth; Finn. Lincoln was recovering well; he had only just awoken from the deep sleep he had fallen into as soon as the small party had returned to the ship. Clarke noticed a stir in his eyes, amongst all the things that should have snatched her attention instead. It was subtle, and foreign in Lincoln's tranquil nature, it sent a twinge of sympathy through Clarke's chest due to the heavy bullshit argument she had cracked open around the clearly disturbed man. Surrounding the bed, part of Nyko the grounder healer, the group who had earlier been at the dropship sat, aiming to come to an agreement, of which’s consequences weighed more than the earth. It was horrendous timing, and planning to bring the issues to the serenity of which Lincoln quite frankly wished for crashing down. For a few seconds, at least, the man had been dead earlier that day; but still, he was swamped in the mess the skycrew had partially birthed. 

“We will tell the Commander that we will keep him here,” Abby raised her voice, her hands flailing above her head, a pose she had become quite used to doing, “We won’t allow him out of these walls.”

“No,” Bellamy exclaimed, for the fourth time since they had entered the room only a few minutes before, “We will tell her that we have executed him, then we can keep him here,” he shrugged his broad shoulders, “They will never know.”

“We can’t keep him here,” Octavia piped in, from beside Lincoln, who just observed the chaos, “They have scouts everywhere; the Commander would instantly find out, we need to spend this time planning a way out, okay?”

As soon as Octavia's mouth closed, both Abby and Bellamy jumped forward, desperate to pour their ideas into the net of lies and problematic excuses for something they all knew was rather, inexcusable. But the words never fell from their gaping mouths, as for a deep sigh from the only grounder in the room froze them all. Clarke remained silent as she eyed Lincoln, who drew his rough fingers to the bridge of his nose, and with closing his eyes, shook his head. Expectantly, all eyes followed his motions as they waited for him to speak. A deep tension was pulsing through the room, bouncing off the metal with such force Clarke feared they would be battered outwards, causing the room to implode on them all. 

“There is no alliance,” his voice was barely a whisper, his eyes fluttered open, “Until the Commander has seen to his death.” The words were pungent in the silent air.

“But-” Abby interjected.

“But nothing,” Clarke took the matter into her own hands, “I will speak with Anya, persuade her to let us execute him,” Clarke really tried to avoid delving into the thought of having to persuade someone of letting her or any other of his loved ones take Finn’s life. Anger was sweet in her mouth, the sound of the rapid fire gun, and the screams of the mothers as their children’s limp bodies’ splatted in the cold mud. She remembered the very illusion which was painted in Finn’s eyes when he had spotted Clarke. He looked complete, as if nothing else mattered, as if he hadn’t just slaughtered eighteen innocent people just like cattle. But her mind also remembered the look in the same eyes when she had gazed into them on the second day they had been on this planet. They held a prospect of something safe, a shield to the chaos. That appeared to only be momentarily though, because as an ocean can be smooth and calm one minute, the very same waters could erupt into turmoil the next. A deep sigh from Bellamy drew Clarke's mind back into the metal chamber. She inspected the deep frown line in his olive skin, ones which resembled the slash marks of a dagger so vividly she had to drop her eyes to her boots, all to avoid having other memories flash back up like vomit. 

“I honestly believe this is the only humane option we have,” Lincoln wearily pulled all the attention back onto himself, “As far as the traditions performed by my people go, Finn would leave us in a much pain-free way if we conducted the death.” At this, nobody’s postures changed, but Lincoln knew all too well how alert everyone was now, eager to find out the fate of their friend if they let him be taken. “Finn killed eighteen innocent people,” now there was a shift in demeanour as the words once again sunk in, “And, quite rightly, the primary belief throughout our lands is that if life has no worth, then death has no cost. But the dead cannot be only avenged by Finn’s death, our culture demands that he has to face the pain which he has placed upon the families and friends of the massacred,” Lincoln made eye contact as he glanced around the room, “They start with fire and take the hands, tongue, and eyes. Everyone who feels the pain from the deaths gets a turn with the knife, slicing into Finn, and then the Commander at this point, finishes the ceremony with her sword. She has only ever had to do this once before; as for it is exceptional for anyone to survive this long into the process. So if you will all now take my word for it, Finn needs to leave here, from here.”

“I’m going back to our quarters,” Clarke glanced around the room, her eyes locking with her mothers, “If you want to discuss this any further, you’ll have to come speak to me there,” her eyes danced across those of her friends, “Night guys.” Clarke gave a sincere nod to Lincoln, who used the little energy he had to draw a faint smile. And at this, Clarke shifted away from the bedside and made her way through the medical bay, her form disappearing behind a metal corner.

Clarke felt her body flatten against the hardened, old mattress as she drew in a long shaky breath. Many nights had Clarke lain in this very place, the shiny metal ceiling above her gleaming down even in the darkness of the room, like a less impressive night sky, filled with stars. A large portion of them times, Clarke had been amongst the stars herself, living in the shielding metal walls of the Arc. She had laid there, flurries of images soaring past her eyes, illuminating the plain metal panelling. These images were crammed with happiness and prosperous dreams; of the thought of earth, of its godly soil and marvellous waterfalls, of its whistling birds and ancient trees. It was a place where everything was bliss; a place of undisturbed peace. Clarke caught herself reminiscing over illusions which never turned out to be true, and realising she had been holding that breath, she heavily let it out; her illusions falling as fast as her chest. Scrunching up her nose, Clarke tugged up the thin blanket which was covering her body and twisted onto her side and closed her eyes. She had grown used to sleeping fully dressed, as for the insufficient supplies her people expected her to survive upon were defiantly not enough to shield her from the biting autumn nights, which she could only predict would spiral into even more bitter winter ones. She had also grown used to not sleeping very much at all. Tonight, like every night since she had felt the soil under her boots, Clarke's mind whizzed with plans, with scenarios and memories. Clarke knew she needed the sleep, desperately, she needed the sleep; but she had a crucial role to play amongst her friends and family, and all those in between. Instinctively she had stepped into a commanding role when the dropship had forged chaos along with the freedom her and the ninety-seven others when it hit the earth. It burned in her blood to keep her people safe. But now, things had changed, yet again. After Clarke had finally accepted the pressure of the decisions she had to make, such as torturing Lincoln, and such as burning the three hundred warriors alive; she was then told that the pressure didn’t have to be on her. It was her mother telling her this, the mother who had sent her to the ground to die, the mother who had called for the execution of her father, and the mother who had let the loyal best-friend take the blame. And for some strange reason, Clarke didn’t believe her mother when she said this. Clarke pouted her lips and flipped over onto her other side.

When Clarke had finally been reunited with her mom, it was one of the best feelings in the world, the relief washed over Clarke in a way she could never forget. But tied to the tail of that relief were the skeletons of past actions. And even after all of these incredulous actions, her mother was there trying to sway her into thinking she was just a child; one who didn’t have to make such rash choices. This is why she didn’t believe her, because Clarke knew that her mother liked to be in charge. It was obvious, all of the things she had done, were in her power; and she hadn’t stopped them. Clarke could tell her mother wanted to be in charge, they had the same instincts, but Clarke couldn’t let that happen. She knew her mother wanted the best, but Clarke had come to the very clear decision that her mother often took the wrong path to get there. So Clarke persevered, she continued to fight for her people, but let her mother take care of the less important matters. And this left Clarke in between a rock and a hard place. Her friends were trapped inside the Mountain. And truly, she needed someone to talk with, to help her make the choices which would keep her friends safe, but there seemed to be nobody; alas, she carried the weight on her own back. It was hard enough for her to balance this weight to start, but now she had the extra off-put of the Commander and the whole alliance thrown onto her too. 

Clarke sighed, squeezing her eyes shut as she delved into her brain for a solution for the best way to manoeuvre these two daunting situations. It was clear she needed the Commanders help; their meeting had been tense; and a great shock too. Now that Clarke finally had time to focus on what had happened that day, she couldn’t get the image of the Commander, perched in her throne from her head. Her throne, Clarke thought in awe. Never could she have guessed that the powerful leader of all these giants which roamed the lands Clarke stood would be a young woman, much the same size as Clarke herself. A slight grin spread on Clarke's face as she realised how much easier her mission to bond with the Commander could possibly be now. Well, saying that, they had already had their first meeting; the grounder leader had obviously had been told information regarding Clarke and her people already; whereas, Clarke still didn’t even know the name of the fierce looking individual who she had been trying so hard to impress. 

Clarke's eyes flicked open as the heavy, metal door to the other room clanked shut. It was pretty late she guessed, and Abby was only just residing to their quarters. Clarke sighed, once again, as she heard her mom shuffling around in the main living area, her telling footsteps confirming to Clarke it was surely her. Clarke let her eyelids slide back closed, the Commander filling her mind with unanswered questions. Making the decision to inquire about the Commanders real name, Clarke pushed the burning curiosity aside and focused on getting some rest; she knew that nothing was going to get any easier, especially without any sleep in her body. 

∞

The Commander couldn’t normally allow anyone else to sleep in the same tent as her. It was one of the pledges she had to devote to upon becoming Heda; life as the Commander meant life lived alone. Past Commanders had stuck to this life motto very strictly, Lexa can recall being told, and so she had persevered upon continuing the role. But things had changed ever so slightly. Although she tried to preserve the duties her former leaders had endured, Lexa also knew that the past Commanders had never had to go through such a situation as she. Not one of them had been so neck to neck with the Mountain, as for both parties had stayed as clear of the other as possible; whereas in the days that were upon Lexa, the Mountain had become more of a volcano, a volcano which was no longer dormant, and was ready to explode. Not one of them had been so in knots with the Ice Nation, because not one of them had been delivered the severed head of their love by the Azgeda queen. Lexa shivered slightly at the memory of her love, she swore to never forget. Not one of them had been surprised with the arrival of a chaotic bunch of people, a whole new clan who were born in the sky. Not one of them had to negotiate with Clarke. All of these points were very valid to Lexa, as it proved that her rule differed from those before. Therefore, she came to the conclusion that she could allow herself a tad bit of leeway, as for there was a new generation dawning upon her, and she would have to adapt to the changes sooner or later. Anyway, Lexa reminded herself, it wasn’t like it was anyone unfamiliar was to be sleeping in her tent, as for many nights had Anya and she shared a roof before now. 

Lexa was sat up on her furs, her back resting on a chest which was positioned the head of her makeshift bed. From this view she could admire the entirety of her and Anya's temporary living space, and the great work her trusted generals had put into the erection of the structure, especially since they all knew it would soon be deconstructed. Anya was shifting about on the other side of the tent, her back to Lexa. As Lexa observed, she could still make out the light bustling sound outside the tent, of life as her warriors settled down for the night. Her attention flicking back over to Anya, Lexa noticed she wore a vest top, which revealed her toned arms, scattered with scabs which were healing well. Familiar black trousers wrapped around her legs, and a warm smile spread across Lexa's lips as she remembered how closely Anya treasured her black trousers. It had been many years back, on a sunny day, when Lexa had the daunting conclave right under her nose, that Anya had been training her for one of the last times before she had become the Commander. Lexa remembered vividly, how intense the session had been, compared to their regular training sessions. Lexa believed it was due to her growing talents with the daggers which had much outgrown those of Anya's; but there was no way that Anya would admit that to anyone, especially not Lexa herself. They were deep in combat, the air was full of summer heat, and they were training in the clearing in the forest in which they regularly did. It was a close match; and both Warrior and Second were desperate to win their fun little battle. This was when Lexa decided enough was enough; it was time to slip in the move she had been secretly practicing without Anya. Quickly enough, Lexa had positioned her form perfectly for the attack and Anya had no clue it was coming; the smug grin the older woman had smeared on her face had been there to prove it. So Lexa unleashed her flame, and spinning around, arms extended, she had slashed out, knocking Anya off guard. The sharp blade had caught onto Anya's trousers, right at the top of her thigh. Lexa's arm had trailed down, and luckily for Anya, it had only been close enough to slice a giant gash in her pants, missing her skin, but cutting the fabric all the way from her hip to her shin. She had come away unscathed, but not the least bit impressed; Lexa on the other hand was in fits of laughter, the priceless look on Anya's face as her favourite black trousers were split in two. A larger smile slid onto Lexa's face as she recalled Anya's distant muttering as the pair returned to Polis that day, having to push through the heavily crowded streets, many eyes baring witness to the trouser-less Anya. Lexa remembered having to hold her grin at bay, not giving in as for she hoped to soon be the leader of these gawping people; and needed to make sure she was acting as Heda-like as possible, just in case. 

The smile soon dropped off of Lexa's face as Anya turned, and made the bad choice of using her nickname for Lexa as she knocked her attention from the bright memory, “Whatcha thinking about Kiddo?”

“How quickly I'm going to kick your ass out of here if you call me that again.” Lexa shot back, using her well composed habit of keeping a straight face as she muttered it.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Anya smirked as she walked over; holding a cup of water which she had poured over at the desk on the other side of the tent, “Budge up.” She insisted as she finally reached Lexa's furs, and squatted next to them, eager to jump into the soft pile of fluff. Lexa narrowed her eyes at Anya; she wondered how anyone else would react to someone speaking to the Commander in such a way. 

“Anya?” Lexa suddenly inquired, drawing a short ‘huh’ in response from the other woman, who was making herself rather comfy. Lexa decided to wait the short while as Anya took a quick sip from her drink, before placing it atop the chest which they both leaned. “What do you know about Clarke?” a slight pang echoed in Lexa's chest. Lexa shifted onto her stomach, and slid slightly further down the furs so she could face Anya. She propped her head up on her hands, her elbows digging into the spongy bed.

“I knew that you would like her,” Anya smirked, once again that smug look on her face. Lexa rolled her eyes, waiting for Anya to be serious, “What do you mean? As in what do I think of her, or as in what have I seen her do?” 

“I want to know about her,” Lexa said with a slight sigh, before her eyes went wide upon realising how eager and unprofessional she must sound, she cleared her throat and corrected herself “For the chance to work out who I'm dealing with, I need to know as much as I can about her, because I am hoping to form an alliance with her after all.” Lexa watched as Anya side eyed her, clearly suspecting that Lexa was covering her tracks.

Anya didn’t even bother to cover up her devilish smile, Lexa and she had been through quite a lot recently, much of it being emotional and they had at one point, both suspected they would never see each other again; therefore Anya had decided that life is far too short to be living how she had previously. That meant she was going to start grabbing the bull by the horns and expressing more feeling to those she trusted, it meant she would fight like there was no tomorrow and party whenever the opportunity summoned it. But first she would kick it all off by agitating Lexa, her life-long skill which she really needed to put into more practise. “Hmm,” Anya began, slowly, “Form an alliance?” she cocked her eyebrow at Lexa, “How are you going to do that?” Anya bit her lip as Lexa frowned at her, the look on her face looking as if she was wondering if Anya had hit her head escaping from the Mountain. Because it was obvious, Lexa would evaluate the points why an alliance was good for her people and th- “Will you start by luring her into this tent, into these furs?” Anya dramatically pointed at the bed, making Lexa's eyes fly wide, the brunette haired girl choking upon hearing Anya's teasing. 

“No, Anya Jesus Christ,” Lexa quickly stuttered, her face surging into a deep scarlet, her eyes flicking around the room. 

“Oh I bet,” Anya mocked, receiving a slight punch from Lexa, “Anyway Kiddo,” Anya was thrown a death glare, “Since when did you start using the name of the pre-war son of God’s name when you get embarrassed?” 

Lexa sighed, clearly Anya was happy to return, and fill in the gaps of teasing she had missed whilst she was inside the mountain. Lexa knew it would be a long night. “What?” she narrowed her eyes at Anya.

“You said Jesus Christ,” Anya continued, pointing at Lexa.

“So?”

“Nobody says that anymore,” Anya used a lot of self-control to prevent laughing at the clearly annoyed Commander, “I mean, I know you have a whole load of pre-war books and stuff but where did you read that? Do you even know who it is?”

“I'm the Commander I can say what I want,” Lexa fired back at Anya, making the decision to play her sister at her own game. “And I didn’t read it, I guess I just heard a few of the warriors saying it,” Lexa looked up as she racked her brain, “Oh, wait, when we were in the dropship, everyone kept saying it and I don’t know, it’s just stuck in my head?” Lexa questioned herself, knowing how ridiculous she must have sounded. 

“Oh Lexie Loo,” Anya laughed, then winced as a hard blow was struck on her arm, Lexa hated that name more so than Kiddo, “Well, I read it, but it was the name of the son of the God that some people worshipped before the bombs, so I don’t know why the Skycrew use it like that but yeah,” 

“I know what it is,” Lexa sat up, her mind clearly ticking away, “They say it in the same way our people say ‘What in the Commanders Spirit’, I bet you.” At this Anya nodded, a hum of agreement reverberating from her pursed lips.

“Anyway, never mind that,” Anya drew the conversation along further, by going back to the point Lexa had asked her about before, “Clarke is a good leader,” at the name Lexa's eyes flicked up, before she moved back onto her stomach, ready to listen, “I don’t really understand much about the Skikru politics and who their appointed leader is, but Clarke surely is the one most of her people are relying upon. I know that her mother wears the pin thing that they have, symbolizing that she is the leader of the kru but I think otherwise. Before the bigger ship landed here, Clarke was most certainly the leader of the youths which were delivered to the earth. Do you remember the letter I sent you saying how we had a meeting on the bridge?” Lexa nodded slightly, intrigued by what Anya was telling her, she recalled the night Anya had returned, all beaten and cut. They had sat for hours in the medical hut, Anya describing the journey she had shared with Clarke, all the time managing to miss out informing Lexa that it was a girl but somehow managing to inform Lexa on the many skills that Clarke had proven whilst breaking free alongside Anya. This is how Lexa already knew what Clarke was capable of, and to be honest, it was rather impressive to say the least.

“Well I can recall how I had been told I was going to meet the leader of the new clan, on that bridge stood Clarke. Also, I mean, whenever I was out scouting, I often kept my eyes on her and they listen to her; the kids who seemed so untameable and were running about their camp without a care in the world, they listened to Clarke. If she called for them to do something they would instantly do it. They respected her and many of them seemed to expect her to keep them safe from us.” Lexa hummed to what Anya was preaching, her mind flipping back to how instinctively the dark haired boy at the dropship had followed Clarke's commands. “But in all honesty, I don’t think this alliance is with the whole of the Skikru,” Anya continued, catching Lexa's attention once again, “You see, I know that the kids who are in the Mountain alongside our own people, I know they respect Clarke and I know she is fighting to get them out. But have you noticed the attitude of the other members of Skikru who are living in that big metal monstrosity,” Anya flicked her head in the direction of the camp, “They're torn between following the leader who is actually out there, representing their kru and who is fighting for their safety; and the leader who is seemingly ‘officially appointed’ their leader. And this isn’t good news if you want there to be a stable alliance,” Anya pointed out, “You need to ensure that if you go ahead with this, that Clarke has a chance to prove to her people that she is in charge, do you understand what I mean?” Anya rounded up, sounding as unsure if she was making sense as she felt.

Lexa nodded exaggeratedly, understanding Anya's point clearly. Many thoughts swarmed around her head as this information sunk in. “If I agree to this alliance, and work with Clarke mainly, I'm sure they would begin to understand who their true leader is when she is making all the decisions to the points I give her,” Lexa quickly began to form ideas, before her mind clicked, “She is making the decision whether or not to give us the murderer, you know so she can have the alliance,” Lexa kept nodding as the pieces slotted together, “That’ll prove to them as a whole that she is the one who decides on the safety of their kru, that should do it?” Lexa was proud of her problem solving, until she saw the look upon Anya's face.

“One problem,” Anya pulled up slightly hesitantly, “I'm not too sure if we can rely on Clarke with this, due to him being her lover and all…” 

Lexa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Really? Clarke was intimate with the boy who murdered eighteen of her people. Lexa felt her blood begin to boil just thinking about the massacre. “We need that boy dead.” She confirmed as she re-opened her eyes, Anya agreeing as the mood in the tent shifted. 

There was a stagnant silence in the tent as Anya climbed out of Lexa's bed, grabbing her cup of water and residing to that of her own, before calling a quiet ‘goodnight’ to Lexa. Lexa mumbled the same in response before turning onto her back, the candlelight of a few small flames keeping the darkness of the night from penetrating the tent. Lexa's mind was whizzing so fast she knew it would soon be so tired that sleep would overtake her, but before she could sleep she shared a though of Clarke. She felt herself asking why the blonde had to be in such a situation, it once again reminding her why if you're to be a good leader, life must be spent alone. The weight of the familiar thought made Lexa's chest heavy, and upon taking a deep sigh, the candles finally burned out, throwing Lexa into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYONE IM SORRY I UPLOADED LATE I JUST HAD SURGERY!!!!! GO ME!!!! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CHAPTER HAVE SOME SOFT LEXA PLUS ANYA BEING SARCASTIC AF


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh oh man

Clarke's eyes flicked open, instantly squeezing back shut again as the bright sunlight streaming through the window hit them. Hesitantly blinking them back awake, Clarke's mind was drawn back to the dream she had just jumped out of; and she realised she knew exactly what she had to do for Finn.

Almost falling out of the bed, Clarke didn’t waste a second before she grabbed the boots which rested next to the door of the room. Hastily dragging them onto her feet, she loosely fastened them, before snatching the black and blue jacket from the hook in front of her face. With one last glance around the scarcely furnished room, Clarke spared a second debating on whether she needed to make her bed or not. Shaking her head, she swung open the door, her clammy hands slipping on the metal handle.

“Hello love,” the last person Clarke had wanted to run into rested against the metal kitchen work surface, a steaming cup of presumably instant coffee in her matured hand.

“Hi, mom I'm just,” Clarke's eyes slightly narrowed, “Just going to see Raven,” she paused, her mouth hanging open, “And stuff.”

Abby squinted slightly, the protest clearly painted on her face. But alas her mouth never voiced it, so Clarke took the raise of her eyebrows and the sigh as a go-ahead. “Be careful.”

“Of course, seeya.” Making her way out of the main entrance, Clarke gave a slight smile to her mother before the door swung shut behind her. 

∞

Abby glanced at her watch; the meeting she had just sat had lasted nearly two hours. Her legs burned as she walked along the familiar passageways of her castle, reminding her why she shouldn’t let the council draw up too much time with their talking in the future. As she approached the labs which were only a minutes’ walk from the medical bay, the tragic wailing that Raven called singing filled her ears. A rhythmic booming hit her, louder with each step she took, almost shaking the walls. A slight smile drew on Abby’s face as she rounded through the door of the chemical smelling room. The sight of Raven, holding a spanner as a microphone, head tilted back with her mouth gaping open was pure gold. With worm hands, Abby pressed an ancient button on the audio system Raven had rigged up herself, halting the music instantly. A snigger escaped Abby’s mouth as the spanner flew out of Raven’s hand, her eyes shooting wide and her stature rigid. After overcoming the initial shock Abby had induced on her, Raven placed a hand on her heart in exasperation, before finally growing a large smirk on her cheeks.

“Do you think I should start a band?” her eyebrow shot up.

“As long as you're on the drums,” Abby joked back, “And your mouth is nowhere near a microphone,” Raven just pouted, crossing her arms and leaning back onto the worktop which was a bombsite of science equipment and papers covered with calculations. “Anyway, how long ago was Clarke here? Did I just miss her?”

“Huh? I haven’t seen Clarke all da-” Raven’s mouth instantly clamped shut, the sizzling regret forming a wincing expression on her face. “I mean she was her-”

“Raven,” Abby’s tone had shifted as fast as the movement she made across the stuffy room, “Where is my daughter.” 

Raven turned, shaking her head, “I don’t think you need to be worrying about where she is,” the words slipped through Raven’s lips as a murmur but Abby didn’t need to ask twice what Raven had just exposed. As raven toyed about with the necklace which wrapped around her neck, the cogs in Abby’s head clicked into place and with clenched fists and a red haze clouding her vision, Abby spun on her heel and stormed out of the room. Raven knew exactly what was going to happen next, also knowing exactly where Clarke's mother was heading. Pushing up from her perch on the table side, Raven took off in Abby’s haste, her mechanical, leg brace creaking with each step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a super short chapter sorry guys, i will be uploading in the next few days to account for it so :)))) hope ya like it


	16. Chapter 16

The forest seemed silent for once. No birds chirped and no sounds of running water were to be heard. This only amplified the crunching of the heavy Skycrew boots, making Clarke wince at each step the gang took. The trees pushed down onto them, trapping the sombre mood which radiated between their long faces. Clarke lead the group along a well-known track, but each person seemed too wrapped up in their own dark clouds to show any acknowledgement. Behind her trailed Finn, who once galloped through the forests with a devilish grin, a slight smile painfully made its way onto Clarke's face. It remained for a split second as suddenly the reminder of how quickly Finns right to do anything had been snatched away. Next to Finn, Octavia wandered; a seemingly permanent frown etched upon her face. Clarke didn’t know exactly what had happened between Octavia and Lincoln, but she didn’t want to even try imagining it after seeing the broken state Lincoln had been in until she had resurrected his old self. Bellamy tagged along behind them all, his focus constantly whipping between the still trees, his fingers wrapped around the automatic machine gun which had become a second arm to him. 

Trees crowded the land in unity, forming a wall between the small group and their people. They had been walking for a good half an hour, one which fell silent as soon as they had left through Raven’s Gate. Clarke hadn’t seen one trace of life on their short journey so far, was she right to think that they feared Finn who travelled through their homes? Shaking her head she tried to reason with herself like every day since the shooting happened. She tried to tell herself that he is still the Finn that she had fallen in love with and that he is the same Finn that tried to keep peace between everyone. But all she could remember was that he was the same Finn who had broken her heart; he was the same Finn who had forgotten to tell her that he was in a deep relationship with another girl, and the same Finn who pulled the trigger on eighteen innocent people. Quickly Clarke had to swallow down the bile which had worked its way up her throat, just as the crack of splintering wood snatched her attention. Instantly the whole group were hunched down, eyes wide and blood pumping. 

“What the hell was that?” Bellamy glanced around, his eyebrows arched and his nostrils flaring.

Octavia swallowed, her hand slowly coming to point at a tree which stood right next to them. “I’m gonna put my money on it being that.”

Jutting from the tree, a glinting throwing star which was as big as a skull peered down at them. Clarke snatched her eyes shut momentarily as an image from only a month or so ago of the same type of star splitting her friends head in two when they were trying to evacuate camp flooded her mind. Regaining her senses pretty snappy, her mind whirred, trying to figure out how any of the grounders could have known they were out there. How many of the bloody people were there? There must have been over a thousand still surrounding her camp when the group had snuck off. Suddenly it clicked. The Commander had warned that Finn must remain in the camp and with the capabilities that the woman has must have meant that she had scouts tracking the whole perimeter of the camp, knowing full well what move Clarke would decide to make next. Clarke sighed, briefly, before attempting to keep her cool. “I'm pretty sure we’ve been followed.”

“Shit,” Bellamy hissed, his eyes falling on Clarke. Internally, she was screaming, time was ticking away and Clarke knew full well that the scouts were willing to attack, the star which hung above their heads proved that. As she felt the eyes of the group boring into her, a familiar sense of responsibility came crashing down on top of her. The wave of it pummelled her into action; signalling to Bell and O that they needed to move out, and fast, she snatched Finn by his jacket, instantly taking off in the direction opposing to the one where the warriors were, she hoped. Luckily she knew the surrounding area well, and so did the others. In the midst of the action, the group had dispersed slightly, as Clarke noticed only one set of heavy footsteps behind her. Whilst keeping her pace, she flicked her head back slightly, catching a glimpse of Finn whose expression she could never seem to read anymore. As the trees flew past them, Clarke's destination drew into sight. Ahead was a large rabbit hole made by the delinquents when they first set up the dropship camp; its gaping mouth, strewn with the unused attire of cobwebs, was a life saver in the long-run for many of the skycrew. 

Still running, Clarke dropped her head as she entered the dark passage, the other side only a few steps away. Finns loud panting kept her on edge as she gingerly emerged through the other side, the dropship finally coming into view. Pausing slightly at the opening of the tunnel, Clarke surveyed the area, which remained untouched since she had last been here alongside the Commander. It was still everywhere. Beside her, Finn ran his hand through his hair, his eyes finally making contact with Clarke's. In that second, Clarke's mind captured a memory she would never forget. The pain which was withheld in Finns regretful eyes nearly made her physically sick. She remembered when those eyes sparked a fire inside of her and lit the way for her on this new planet, but now all she could see was the bodies that piled up behind them. They didn’t need to speak any words, as a thousand were exchanged in that glance, but Finn broke the silence.

“Thank you,” his voice was frail, and not from the running, “For this,” Finn whispered. Clarke bit her lip, the bittersweet sound of Finns voice nearly a memory to her, “After everything.” Finns eyes fell to his boots, which lifted and fell on the spot, the only action which actually gave him any life. Clarke wanted to respond, she really did, but reality pushed any words she could summon for Finn out of the window. With heavy eyes, Clarke peered at him, when their eyes connected she gave a gentle nod, before taking a rattling breath and setting off towards the dropship. She heard Finn follow on behind her. 

After finally crossing the short opening and stepping up onto the battered dropship door, Clarke finally let out a deep breath as her footsteps rung out with a melodic clatter, her hand tugging back the red curtain which swayed slightly ahead of her. Everything was too silent. Hesitantly, Clarke ripped it back, revealing a startled set of siblings, whose shoulders sunk upon seeing Clarke. Signing in unison, Clarke powered into the dropship, swinging her bag from her bag. Her footsteps echoed through the tin can of a ship. When Clarke had made the few steps to the other two of the group did she halted, her brow knitting. Not once had she heard Finn’s footsteps following her into the room. Whipping around with wide eyes, Clarke realised the boy had gone; seemingly Octavia had noticed too and mirroring Clarke's action, she joined the blonde’s side, her mouth faintly making out the reluctant words of “Where’s Finn?” with clattering feet, the group short of one rushed out into the sunlight, ahead of them Finn sauntered towards the open mouth of the destroyed fence. 

“Finn, get back here,” Bellamy tried to command, but the other boy didn’t even give back a glance. Instantly, Clarke dived forwards to follow but a strong arm held her back. “Clarke stop,” she struggled for a second before relaxing into the knowledge of her uselessness, “There’s nothing more we can do.” Bellamy finished off his sentence and dropped his hold on Clarke. Squeezing her fists, Clarke watched as Finn, with a painfully slow gait, made it through the derelict gate. Like a broken wind-up toy, Finn turned to face the group, his face emotionless. And with one last half-hearted wave of his hand, he was snatched off of his feet by what seemed like a group of armour clad ghosts, instantly disappearing. A whimper escaped Clarke's mouth as she took a step forward, towards a memory which was no longer there. “We better get back,” Bellamy put his hand on Clarke's shoulder which only froze up more, “Before they start worrying about us.” 

∞

Raven huffed, focusing on ignoring the shooting pain in her hip and instead trying to make sense of the ignorant garble which was taking place in front of her. Arms crossed and eyebrows scrunched up, Raven lent against the icy metal of the board room walls, her eyes following the ever escalating debate which she supposedly wasn’t allowed to have a say in. Raven hated not having a say. At the oval table ahead of her sat the ‘elite leaders’ of the Sky Crew; Abby Griffin, Thelonious Jaha, Marcus Kane and another woman who seemed to just sit in these meetings to keep the peace. There were three empty chairs, yet Raven refused to sit and pretend she was a part of the small group who discussed everyone’s futures without actually considering their views. It hadn’t been like this upon the Arc, but as soon as the council had hit the earth, boom, politics were in shambles.

“I will repeat, we need to go after them!” Abby viciously stood up, her arms flailing like a startled bird, the sight nearly bringing a smile upon Raven’s lips.

“And I will repeat,” Kane motioned for her to sit down, his calm aura keeping the room from burning up, “That it isn’t a good idea, Clarke knows what she is doing okay?” Abby profusely shook her head, seething as she remained tugging her anger down. 

“Abby, I know you're just trying to keep her safe but Clar-”

“Butt out of this Raven,” Abby warned, her eyes narrow and finger pointing. Dramatically Raven raised her hands, rolling her eyes at Abby’s dangerous glare, “This is none of your bu-”

Without warning, the door flung open, flooding the room in a tense silence. In stomped Clarke, in perfect timing, and she had a look which was far beyond her age strewn on her face, she paused as the members of the room all peered expectantly at her.

“He’s gone,” Raven noticed the change in Clarke's voice. It appeared strong and like usual, but the slight wavering unleashed the true pain behind the words. None of this mattered to Raven though as what Clarke had actually just said rung in her mind, “We tried to free him but,” Clarke held back the words, taking in a deep breath before continuing, “We were followed by a group of Scouts and when we weren’t looking he turned himself over.” Instantly her sky eyes feel to the ground.

“What?”  
“What?”  
“What?”  
The voices echoed around the room, Raven’s head going fuzzy as she flung her question into the confused room. “But he wouldn’t just,” Raven began, a sick feeling rising in her stomach.

“Raven he did.” Clarke gently looked at Raven with an empathetic look, but only for a second as for Raven stormed out of the room, pushing past a disheartened looking Bellamy who stood shy of the board room door. 

“Hell he did.” Raven mumbled to herself as she followed her red haze away from the mess which was unfolding behind her.

∞

A rushed, out of breath messenger flew into Lexa's tent, startling her as the flap cut the darkness of the night out from her quarters. Her gasp was almost about to become a fiery command for the man to leave, but Anya stormed in behind him, her eyes flaming. With the angry look on her face dissipating, Lexa strutted over to the pair, thankful she hadn’t put her night clothes on yet.

“What is the meaning of this Anya?” the older woman glared at the man, who was small and feeble. He shook under her glare, only just managing to keep a composed stature about him.

“Show her.” Anya bit out the words, making the man flinch. Slowly he reclined his arm behind him, Lexa's fingers moving to her sheathed leg dagger as he did so. With a trembling hand, the man produced a scroll and gingerly held it out towards the puzzled looking Lexa. Narrowing her eyes, she accepted the tattered roll, and upon spinning it in her hand she noticed the red, wax stamp which held the paper together, a large flame across its centre. Unlike Lexa, Anya's emotions were fully exposed; she worked tracks into the ground as she paced behind the small messenger, and tried to take in deep breaths to calm herself. As soon as she had been given the scroll, Anya had boiled up inside. The moment her eyes had landed on the symbol of the old Flamekeeper Titus, who Lexa had assured her was now officially dead, Anya had nearly blown a gasket. She had never liked the man but had always kept her accusations at a bay as she knew how much Lexa had appreciated being mentored by him. 

Lexa knew whatever was inside this scroll had to be a big deal, as for Titus had never wrote his feelings or thoughts on paper, but had instead fed them straight to the Commander herself. Cautiously, Lexa peeled the stamp from the curled up paper, unrolling the letter to reveal a delicate set of scrawls, but Lexa's eyes instantly fell on one word; Azgeda. Quickly skimming the words, Lexa took in the heavy writing, her composition never changing. From the writing it was obvious Titus had known this information for a while before his death but had never actually displayed it to Lexa, which was unnerving as it was as critical as it was. The words spoke of how Azgeda were being revved up by their queen, her Ever Seeing Eye endorsing a new breed of hatred onto Lexa's back. Titus had written how she planned to blame the whole system of Mount Weather on Lexa's Command and how the Azgeda army were on the edges of their seats, ready to pounce on a new war against The Commander at any moment. Lexa felt her blood heat up, the inky feel of Costia’s blood on her fingertips again at the thought of Queen Nia of Azgeda. Glancing up, Lexa noticed how the messenger had skittered away; Anya's pacing keeping her from noticing either.

“Anya stop for my sake,” Lexa snapped out, Anya instantly halting.

“When are they going to strike Lexa?” Anya shot the question out, knowing there would be a wise response.

“I know as well as you do,” Lexa breathed away her anger, clearing her mind which was slowly filling with new war tactics as she went on, “But we need to focus on right now okay? We have the murderer and we are in grasp of bringing down the Mountain forever. If it is gone, then so is the threat.” Anya decided to trust these words, knowing that it was the safest option. Lexa flipped the sheet over in her hands, and finally noticed a set of numbers on the bottom corner; a date. The letter was dated a few months back, when Titus had been in Polis with her. Suddenly her brow knitted and her eyes began to re-analyse the information on the front of the sheet; the Flamekeeper had written that the attack was due in a few months’ time, and suddenly Lexa realised that meant the attack was due anytime now. 

“Oh shit,” with wide eyes Lexa looked up, Anya swallowed under the peer, “Now Anya,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “They're going to strike now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gahhh ive had such a weird week? i havent written much but damn it im guessing it looks like Queen Nia is joining us now... gotta love her and her choice to be a spiteful dictator...


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, i was notified that i had re-uploaded the same chapter twice so my apologies and here is the next chapter :) happy reading...

Clarke bit back at the nipping wind that slashed through the darkness of the night, her feet carrying her further and further away from the artificial warmth of the Arc. As Clarke made her way up the less crowded side of the opening; which faced the safe gates behind her, she felt the masked eyes of the grounder warriors training her steps. Even in the daylight, the grounders eccentric attire was frightening enough, never mind in the cover of darkness. But nobody came to stop her as she neared the heart of their camp. Her destination was set, but the closer she got, the more so she realised she had no idea where this destination was. Anya must have had a rather large tent to say she was so close to the Commander but as far as Clarke could see; only one tent stood larger than the others, with double the amount of warriors surrounding it. Narrowing her eyes, Clarke considered her options; she could either turn back around, returning to Camp Jaha without the peace of mind she needed, or she could try converse with someone who could quite easily snap her neck in less than a second. After pondering for a second, Clarke carried on walking forwards, quickly approaching the Commander’s tent. The heavy stars pushed her forwards, reminding her why she had set off to start with. 

Without warning, Anya stormed from between the Commander’s tent flaps, alight with fury. She paused just outside the material structure and folded her arms, lifting her eyes to the sky in clear distress. Clarke was puzzled, wondering what could possibly be wrong now, before jogging towards the fiery woman with a look of concern. As Clarke became within reaching distance did the other woman notice her, but Clarke never got to greet Anya as for she was pummelled to the ground, the wind being smashed out of her chest. Clarke heard a ringing as her head made contact with the dry ground, and the distant yelp from Anya. The moon watched from far above, spinning as Clarke's eyes tried to focus on it. Slowly Clarke's lungs re-filled with oxygen as she felt adrenaline kicking its way through her veins, the instinct pushing her back to her feet. As she stood, her knees bent and posture ready to lunge, the newly formed crowd surrounded her. Spinning around, only one other figure waited in the ring, one who even the moons light couldn’t help her recognise. 

“What the fuck!” she exclaimed, her hand rushing to the pounding on the back of her skull, to be greeted with the touch of blood. Her eyebrows upturned into a grimace as she took a step forward, the chanting crowd growing louder with the movement. As she neared the figure, Clarke had to swallow down the bile in her throat, as for his posture loomed double the size of her own. “Who the fuck are you?” she rasped, not backing down despite his huge frame.

“This is not about me,” the man had a booming voice, it shook Clarke's body as he spoke. He was pure muscle under his leather and furs, his face covered with a threatening mask, made up from an animal skull and chainmail. Clarke hastily wiped the bead of sweat which ran down her forehead away with the back of her hand, before dropping it back to its fighting position in front of her. “This is about you. You and your silly people think that it’s okay to kill our families, our friends and then I hear you're trying to make an alliance with our Heda?” Clarke sighed, realising how far the Commander was stretching out to try making this alliance work, especially since her warriors seemed more than capable of taking matters into their own hands. “You think it is okay to murder my sister? You think it is okay to shoot her dead and not pay the consequences?” Clarke braced herself as the man wound himself up, the crowd spurring him on. “Well I don’t.” 

At this he lunged forward, a controlled fist flying past where Clarke's body had previously been, but then a second one slamming into the space where she stood now. The contact sent splinters of pain ricocheting through her body, knocking her a few feet back. Luckily she landed on her feet, and she managed to jump out of the way as he struck forward again. Swinging around, Clarke's elbow smashed into the side of his torso, releasing a heavy grunt. The move had barely fazed her opponent as he twisted, the ball of his palm cracking against Clarke's mouth, splaying blood everywhere. Clarke took the blow badly, her body crumpling to the ground. Her mind flashed back to the Arc, the thought of her friends watching from behind the fence, wondering what the racket on the other side could be, all knowing that it had something to do with Clarke. Suddenly the night grew darker as the massive shoulders of the man cut out the moons brightness, his stance casting a fearsome shadow over Clarke's battered body. She felt the dry earth on her back, under her shirt, wondering why it had to be so damn invasive. The hollering of the grounders rang in time with the pounding of her head, counting down to the moment this man would slam down his fist, ending it all. For a second the ringing stopped, and Clarke watched as the moon peeped over his shoulder, spurring her on. Instantly she lifted herself onto her elbows, and through the man’s legs she watched as the crowd parted, Anya and the Commander forcing their way through. With no more time to waste, Clarke heaved her leg up, the hardened sole of her boot slamming into the beast’s knee sending him stumbling backwards onto the ground with a loud wail. With the speed of a cheetah, Clarke was atop of him, pummelling her hands into his face. She felt the fury inside of her flowing out of her fists, and as she stared down into his bloody face she saw not the man she was straddling, but instead Finn. His melancholy eyes begged back up at hers, dragging a high pitched squeal from her lips as she jumped off the man, a hand landing on the small of her back, steadying her footing. Almost instantly a cool vibe spread from her back, shutting down the frenzy her body had worked its way into. Her chest heaved frantically as she spun on her heel, her eyes locking with those of the Commanders, right before she closed them, her knees giving in. The last thing Clarke felt was a pair of arms looping around her, lifting her from the floor as the darkness slipped over her.

∞

“Clarke,” a familiar voice drew Clarke from the darkness, “Clarke open your eyes.” Gingerly, Clarke eased open her lids, the flickering light making her wince along with a thumping in her head. Beneath her she felt the soft furs of animal hide, and she could taste the bitterness of blood.

“Ughhhh,” she replied, inching her way up onto her elbows, the realisation of where she was springing to her mind, “Oh god,” she began, “Anya I'm sorry, I should leave and go back to my peop-”

“I'm not Anya.” the words drew a questioning look upon Clarke's bruised face as she gently turned, seeing the Commanders stoic face staring back at her. Sighing deeply, Clarke tensed her jaw, great, she thought. The other woman perched next to her laying position, hunched on her haunches.

“But you are?” Clarke teased slightly, wondering how harsh the other woman could possibly be, “I know you're the Commander, but y’know,” Clarke shrugged, a hint of confusion baring itself on the dark haired woman's features.

“I'm afraid I don’t?” she spoke slowly, as if afraid of it being some sort of trick. The way she put her words together sounded less hard-core Commander, and more like an apprehensive child. Clarke had to bite back a grin, wincing as she felt the gash on her lip.

“Well seen as though you mysteriously know my name shouldn’t I at least know yours?” Clarke felt a little nervous as she reckoned with the Commander, who had a look of disbelief on her face. 

“Ehm, well,” she shifted slightly, “My name is Lexa.” she cleared her throat.

“Cute name,” Clarke commented, the emotion falling from Lexa's features, “But I mean totally badass too.” 

Lexa slightly frowned, before turning and reaching for a beaker, then handing it to Clarke. “Anya will be here any moment, I will leave you two to talk.” And with that she rose and left, the tent flaps revealing the harsh night beyond. Clarke sat for a moment, shifting so her back leaned against a leather crate at the top of the furs. The encounter with the Commander, with Lexa had been strange. The whole experience had been weird and Clarke knew that her mother would be fretting hugely about her; but this didn’t matter and soon the pounding in Clarke's head overtook her thoughts, resulting in her sliding down into the haven of furs, and shutting her eyes for only a moment.

A loud clatter caused Clarke to fly up from where she was laid, instantly moaning as her head fell into a spinning thunder. Briefly squeezing her weary eyes shut, Clarke felt the dizziness drop away. When they re-opened, the focus went straight to Anya who seemed to have made the loud noise.

“Oh look, the princess of skycrew has awoken,” Anya murmured, Clarke not sure whether she was being sarcastic as usual as for Anya's face was bloody and frowning.

“Anya,” Clarke began, slipping out of the bed, having to push back the utter confusion for the whole situation to the back of her mind, “I came to speak with you,” Clarke shifted towards Anya whose armour was strewn across the desk, obviously the reason behind the noise before. “What happened out there?”

Anya narrowed her eyes at Clarke, “Can’t you tell?” Anya began to fumble around with the belongings in the tent, confusing Clarke as to why Anya seemed owned the largest tent in the camp even amongst the Commander’s presence. Shaking away the question until later, Clarke considered Anya's question.

“No, I understand that our people are still on rough grounds with each other and that he was angry and upset,” Clarke winced knowing full well that he deserved to be in the aftermath of death Clarke and her people had brought upon the grounders, “But what happened to you? And how long have I been here Anya?” Clarke leaned back against the desk, her mind a jumble of questions. Anya turned around and was about to start explaining to Clarke what was happening, but Clarke cut her off, only to receive a glare. “And am I right in thinking the Commander’s name is Lexa? I mean I think I had a conversation with her but I'm not sure because I'm slightly concussed and I could have been drea-”

“Number one,” Anya raised a bloody hand as she cut Clarke off, then giving the blonde a look of that she would explain later if she could keep her mouth shut, “I had to jump in,” Anya motioned to outside, rolling her eyes when Clarke's flew wide, “when you blacked out he was ready to keep fighting and I, I had to stop him, you know,” Clarke dramatically pushed up from the desk, her hands stinging with the memories of curled fists as she did so. 

“Anya you didn’t have to do that, Jesus Christ.” 

“Yes,” Anya began to slip out of her long trench coat, “I did. He is meant to be a trained warrior who can hold back any emotion Clarke. He lost it tonight so we had to send a signal of him to the others, and I'm pretty sure nobody else is going to step out of line especially with this upcoming war-”

Clarke took a great step forward, her arms crossing and her angry face staring up at Anya with intent, “War? You better be kidding me,” Clarke just stood there, “Who the hell against because I swear if you think we’re going to war with the Mountain men then you have another thing coming I am not seeing any more of my friends get killed.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Anya mumbled, making Clarke take a step back with a grand huff, “Anyway that is a conversation you need to be having with the Commander and not me.” Anya held up her hands, her bare arms revealing her toned muscles. “But secondly,” she dropped her hands, and sauntered over to a box which laid about, then perched herself atop it, “You have only been in here for about as long as the walk to the smaller ship of yours, so don’t worry yourself.”

Clarke calculated the time, realising it was only half an hour ago since she had been rugby tackled to the earth. Checking her wrist watch, it permitted enough time to still have the conversation with Anya about her primary issue. 

“And thirdly,” Anya's voice drew Clarke's attention back to the conversation, “Yes, the Commander’s name is Lexa. But to you I'm sure she will be known as Commander Lexa, okay?”

Clarke gave Anya a funny look at the question, “Well no, she told me it so that’s what I’ll call her.” Anya just sighed, “Fine, take up the debate with her about it. Anyway, what was it you inquired from me?”

Clarke took a note of having to speak to the Commander, with Lexa about everything later on, but hopefully with a less dramatic start unlike the events of earlier that night. Then sparking herself back to Anya, Clarke clapped her hands, “Right, yes. I have come to speak about Finn,”

“What’re the chances,” Anya commented, Clarke wanted question it but decided to continue.

“Look, are you sure there isn’t any other way to do this,” she but her lip, “Are you sure he had to,” she paused, “Die?” slowly she sunk back into the seat she had made upon the desk, Anya watching her intently.

Anya just continued to watch Clarke before after a long moment she opened her mouth, “Okay, Clarke,” Anya crossed her legs ahead of her and rested back on her hands, “That man who attacked you tonight, he had a family member murdered by Finn. He was acting out in rage and misunderstood justice, which would haven’t have risen to become a problem if Finn had been prosecuted days ago. My people are hungry for justice. They need the proof that life is valuable and if death has no cost then does life? Really?” Clarke pondered on these words, “I can assure you that my people need the satisfaction of seeing that murderer dead and without it things will just continue to spiral downwards. They know how to fight and bring themselves justice and from what I know, I can tell you that it will not be good for your people. At all. This is already an unstable trust we are depending on to work together to bring safety and peace to our people, but with Finn alive, I'm afraid that will not become the reality. The hate and fury for justice will continue.”

Something shifted. Clarke's mind was flooded with the smiles of the people she grew up surrounded with, the people who deserved the peace and love and safety of not living in fear of war like she had for her time upon this planet. Anya's words only resonating the truth within her and somehow it managed to dislodge the clinging of Finns memory from her system. “You're right.” Clarke's mouth hung slightly open, the realisation setting in. “Thank you Anya,” Clarke jumped up, her head beginning to bang but she pushed through it, “But I must go, I'm sorry, thank you again.” And with that Clarke took off, walking as fast as she could back to her people in the darkness which surrounded her.

∞

As Clarke and Lexa both re-united with their families, only a fence apart, they were both smothered with questions;

“What the hell happened to your face?”

“You told Clarke your name?”

“Do you really trust the Commander?

“Do you really trust Clarke that much?”

It was overwhelming. And as both the girls glanced in the direction of one another, they truly didn’t know how to answer. The answer should have been no, but something kept that word locked in their throats. 

“She seems genuine,”

“It was actually her that stepped in and saved me.”

An unbelieving look was thrown at them, only adding to the strange feeling left in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, i was notified that i had re-uploaded the same chapter twice, so my apologies and here is the next one :) happy reading!


	18. Chapter 18

Clarke could feel her veins pumping out on her wrists. They disfigured her soft skin which her tender fingertips ran across, drinking in every shudder send from her heart. Once again it was dark. The artificial lights of the Arc’s exterior created a haven for Clarke and her friends who surrounded her. The sombre mood of the night rung into the open wounds scattered across her face, accompanying the almost healed scabs from weeks before. Behind her the fence stood to attention, behind that, Lexa’s warriors chanted in a united tone, like the rustling of the leaves on the trees behind them. Clarke knew this would be the night everything would change. 

“Griffin,” Raven’s voice broke Clarke's daydream, her eyes falling on Raven who shivered in the bitter darkness of the night but persevered to draw something out of her jacket pocket and hold it out to Clarke. 

“What is it?” Clarke inquired, seemingly the only person in the small group who was confused as to what Raven offered.

The older girls hand didn’t budge back, instead she just pushed it further towards Clarke. “Take it,” she grasped Clarke's wrist with her spare hand, thrusting the object into Clarke's possession, “Use it on her.”

Clarke peered down at her open hand, where a dagger now laid, and she quickly snatched it away and shoved it down her loose sleeve. “Are you fucking crazy?” she exclaimed, quietly. She shook her head, feeling a look of confusion appear on the faces of all her friends. Use it on whom? Anya? No, it couldn’t be. Clarke knew of her friends growing admiration for the grounder. Who else could it be?

“Just kill her,” Bellamy whispered at Clarke, his eyes ensuring nobody was listening to their conversation. But that’s when it clicked, they meant for Clarke to kill Lexa. Swallowing heavily Clarke's mind was overtaken with Bellamy's voice; “If you go up there, end her okay? Then grab Finn. We will cover you at Raven’s gate but make sure you run.”

Almost instantly a plan had formed in Clarke's mind and before she could stop herself she was nodding, her friends following the motion, hyping her up for an action they didn’t yet know was to take place.

∞

Lexa was nervous, but she wasn’t allowed to focus on that as for her eyes were trained on the slow movement of the electric gates in the distance. From between them slipped Clarke, her blonde hair a beacon in the dark night, spurring on the heavy chant of Lexa's warriors, much like the night before when Clarke had been beaten to the ground. Like the night before, Clarke hadn’t been expected to come strolling out of her safety bubble, but much to Lexa's surprise the other girl didn’t seem fazed. There was a shift in the air as the word spread through Lexa's ranks like a disease of Clarke's oncoming presence. The chanting grew fiercer with each step the blonde took. Lexa straightened her back, a deep breath of the icy air flowing into her lungs, reminding her of the harsh winter which faced them soon. As she observed her surroundings, Lexa felt strangely at ease in the empty expanse with the open sky above her, the blackness spare of her lucky star. She had been spending too much time in the treeless flatland of Polis, where buildings took the positions of the forest but never compensated for the leaf canopy. Lexa was surrounded by her people, but all she could feel in that moment were the eager eyes of the skycrew who would’ve clung to the fence if it hadn’t been electric, desperate not to miss the ceremony which was about to take place. They resembled the eerie pictures of war Lexa had seen in textbooks, their fiery eyes slowly losing their hope. Licking her lips, the cold jumped on the wet skin, biting at Lexa. Deciding to be unconcerned with the uncomforting feeling, Lexa's eyes found themselves back on Clarke, who was much closer now. The other girl seemed cold; her small jacket resembling one Lexa would have chosen to wear during the summer time if anything. Clarke was now in talking distance and the orange glow from the torches of the men and women who lined her unexpected path to Lexa drove her uncomfortable features out further than normal. Lexa waited for her to get within hands reach to talk to her, and braced herself, lifting her chin. But then Clarke stopped, a few feet away and slowly turned. Lexa's hand shot to her sword hilt in precaution as she noticed Clarke’s fist curl into a ball, but then narrowed her eyes in confusion as it shot into the sky like a flame. It remained there for a moment, as did Lexa's gaze, until she noticed another girl on the other side of the fence, all that distance away rein act the same action. Swallowing, Lexa didn’t know what next to expect, and instead regained her strong posture and slid back into her hard expression.

Indra pushed forwards as soon as Clarke became a few feet away. Her spear dropped, pointing Clarke back to her camp. But Clarke kept coming. In the darkness Lexa could hardly make out the spear, if it wasn’t for the glint of the sharp metal strapped to the end, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. Her hand flicked on her sword hilt as the spear remained dangerously close to Clarke's midriff. 

“I'm here to see your Commander.” Clarke's voice was powerful in the darkness, Indra's silence even more so. A second passed and neither woman moved. Swallowing, Lexa watched as Clarke budged slightly further forward, pressing into her generals spear tip. Almost instantly blood drew on Clarke's top, a small gash which didn’t uncover any pain on Clarke's stone cold face.

Lexa would have watched, if it had been anyone else. But knowing the acts Clarke had partook in previously, Lexa knew there would be no extent to which Clarke would stop. Deciding the blonde had proven she was there for business, Lexa finally called out. “Let her pass.” With slight hesitation, Indra withdrew her weapon, a breath escaping Clarke's mouth. 

∞

As Indra backed off, Clarke glanced down, at the slow bleeding of her stomach. Knowing she would have to bathe it when, if, she returned to camp, she decided to let it go for now. Turning back to face her people, a sudden push sent her arm flying upwards like a firework. Her clenched fist bore scabs and gashes as it pointed to the sky. A howl was seconds away from jumping out of Clarke's slightly parted mouth, but the heavy beating of her young heart dragged the thought back down her throat. Clarke could feel the flow of adrenaline being pumped through her veins, and could most certainly not feel the pumping of blood in her raised arm. Quickly she tugged it back down from the dark night sky, suddenly tugging her thin jacket further around her chest. As her arm folded between the other across her body, Clarke could feel the creeping liquid seeping back into her frosty hand.

Even through the dark expanse which Clarke peered through, it was clear that Raven’s raised fist still hung high above her brunette ponytail like a flag of rebellion. A slight smirk sunk into Clarke's lips as she tried to push away the thoughts of what she would have to do and instead tried to remind herself that Raven would have to understand, why she was about to do, what she was about to do. Another second passed and Clarke's eyes dropped to the ground head of her, the ground where many grounders stood, their worn in boots leaving imprints in the earth. Their fiery torches cast a beacon of light onto Clarke's skin, reminding her of the warmth of the sun. Eyes pressed into Clarke from all directions; ahead of her, the remainder of the skycrew watched intensely, eager to witness every movement. Surrounding her, through their daunting masks, the grounders itched in her presence, their unknown eyes ensuring no rash moves were made. But the pair of eyes which Clarke could feel burning into her more so than the rest was close to scorching a hole in her back, so she turned. As soon as her eyes fell on Lexa the intensity had faded, and was replaced with a greeting of a risen chin and a solemn look. 

“Clarke,” Lexa's tongue carved the word carefully, a nod following the blonde’s name.

“Le-” At this moment, half way through pronouncing the name of the Commander, did Clarke finally notice Anya who leaned with all her weight on one leg, behind Lexa. That was because of the deadly glare that halted the rest of the name from leaving her lips. “Commander.”

“Normally,” Lexa's face never shifted, even with the mishap of Clarke's greeting, as she took a step forward towards Clarke, “In Trikru tradition, you would be the first person to take a slice at the murderer,” Lexa's head tilted slightly as Clarke's eyes narrowed, “Seen as though you are his partner.” Clarke had to bite her lip to stop the rambling which nearly fell from her lips and before she embarrassed herself in front of all of Lexa's warriors. Clarke gave a curt nod, a plan forming in her mind. “Why are you here Clarke, you can’t stop this.”

“No but you can,” Clarke heard her voice break slightly, the pressure building up, “Show my people how powerful you are,” she paused, “Show them you're not a savage.”

Finally a hint of emotion spilled onto Lexa's face, but quickly she wiped it up before Clarke could tell what it even was. Guessing it must have been shock, Clarke licked her lips as the sense of power drained from her body, leaving her to feel like an infant squished between all the giant humans around her. “We are what we are.” 

An unbelieving expression filled Clarke's face, as she noticed the uprising mutter of protest from Lexa's people who surrounded them. Blue eyes dropped to her feet as Clarke felt an overwhelming sense of vulnerability wash over her. Swallowing, Clarke whispered, “At least let me say goodbye?”

When Lexa paused, Clarke could almost feel the hands dragging her back down to her own camp, but when Lexa gave a slight nod in allowance, Clarke nearly choked. Instantly the uproar of the crowd grew.

Lexa signalled through the crowd which slowly parted where her hand lead, revealing a sight which Clarke nearly whimpered at, “Say your goodbye, then go back to your people Clarke.” The words could have been menacing, but no, Lexa's lips spoke them softly, warning Clarke. Slightly her eyebrow dipped as Lexa's motive seemed so genuine, but quickly she fell back onto the spikes which reminded her not to fall for it.

Clarke licked her lips, the taste of fire latching onto the wetness of her skin, the woody aroma sending shivers through her frame. Lexa's eyes had remained on Clarke the whole time, but for some reason, Clarke didn’t feel a threat; they seemed to be beckoning her forward but without force. Re-connecting with them, Clarke remembered what she had to do. Swallowing, Clarke finally remembered the feel of the blade which was concealed up her sleeve, the cool metal pressing against her raging veins. Her eyes dipped down to the empty air, to the small bump under her jacket arm, the dagger with Lexa's name on it. Her eyes flicked back up, landing heavily on the woman she knew so little about, yet was the woman who knew so much of her. When Clarke's eyes finally reconnected with Lexa's, the earthy eyes quickly then flicked down to Clarke's arm; making Clarke's dagger feel suddenly exposed, as if the Commander had x-ray vision. 

After the long pause, Clarke nodded, her head bobbling up and down like a toy, almost uncontrollably. Then when Lexa stood with a look of stoic resignation to any further words, Clarke finally made a move, dropping her head and pacing towards Finn. As the crowd parted, Clarke heard mumbles of protest but feared not, as for what she feared the most was her call on what was about to take place.

∞

Abby was terrified. The dim light of the grounder torched illuminated her daughter’s skin. Clarke looked so tiny next to all of the armour wearing men who crowded her. 

“What is she doing?” Abby muttered, her mouth hanging open.

∞

Feeling almost too soon, Clarke had to stop upon her eyes running over Finns dogged boots just a breath away from her own. They hung with defeat as his weight was taken by a rope bound around his wrists, attached to a gnarly hook above his head. Timidly, Clarke raised her eyes, which drunk in the image of Finns limp body, a recognisably painful look on his face. Slowly all the bustle behind her melted away, the heavy drumming of her own heart filling her ears as the pressing of the dagger nipped at her skin under her jacket sleeve.

When Finns eyes hit hers from their perch on the pole he was bound to, Clarke plunged forward, for that second just pretending he was the boy who she had fallen alongside so chaotically. A slight gasp jumped from his open mouth as their bodies connected, for what they both knew would be the last time. As Clarke held Finn with one arm, she noticed the absence of his arms, which were stung like cattle around the log he was chained to. Clarke's mind fell back to Lincoln a few days before; tied up like a monster, but were instantly drawn back when Finns raspy voice flowed the short distance from his gasping lips to her ear. 

“Thank you, Princess,” A slight whimper was induced from Clarke when he whispered his gratitude and Clarke knew those words were for everything, not just that night. With a slight sniffle, Clarke pulled back and grasped his cheek, her eyes boring into his. “I love you.” He winced, his breaths drawing out longer and more laboured. 

“May we meet again.” Clarke breathed with her voice frail. Then she plunged back into the embrace, this time feeling a patch of wetness soak through her thin t-shirt, where her jacket hung open. There was a distant clatter as the dagger fell from Clarke's hand, but all of Clarke's focus was on the evermore weight of Finns head which was finally coming to rest upon her shoulder. Both of her arms wrapped around him now, as if it could change anything. A choked sob quietly emerged from her lips when she felt the rise of his chest drop, then stay there. A few seconds passed, and then slowly, Clarke took an apprehensive step back. Finns carcass hung like a rag soaked in blood. Upon glancing down, Clarke saw her one hand coated in the red liquid, along with the dagger next to her boot.

A close noise was fast approaching Clarke now, and like a re-enactment of the scene in the Commanders tent, Clarke turned just in time to face the bullet of Indra spiking towards her with a passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! okay right, i just want to say, thanks to everyone for sticking with this story as it has been a long ass ride and there hasnt been much clexa yet. but let me tell you, from next chapter onwards everything will be heating up a whole shit tonne so i just thought i would ley y'all know :) have a nice week


	19. Chapter 19

Lexa was quick to react, her hand halting the army which followed Indra's footsteps. “It is done.” Her voice was strong, and would cut anyone who opposed. Clarke was too shaken to even take in what was happening. But her feet carried her forward slowly, her knees feeling like mud. She stopped, as a rabid scream rang through the almost silent night sky, Raven’s wavering sobs reaching the ears of every person within a ninety nine mile radius. Clarke tensed her jaw as she recognised the desperate cries, probably of her own unsuspected betrayal. A sheet of tears filled her eyes, blocking out the sight of the blood which felt like it was burning her skin. Hoping for a release, Clarke drove her eyes to the night sky, the darkness offering her nothing but a chilly wind and a feeling of emptiness. 

Clarke didn’t know how long she had been rooted to that one spot, her eyes flicking between Finn and her hands. But no tears emerged from her eyes as she controlled her will to scream until her throat was raw. Every second that assed felt as long as a lightyear, and with each second, a new sound accompanied the wails of Raven from behind the fence, of whom Clarke couldn’t even turn to inspect. Hushed mumbling from the mouths of many grounders now filled the air, Clarke's shaking hands dancing to the beat of their tongues. 

Turning, Clarke finally faced her people, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Raven was crumpled on the grass in Bellamy's arms, tear tracks glinting under the moon. Clarke felt her stomach twist as she watched her people stood as still as the trees, unsure of what had just happened.

∞

Abby felt Kane behind her, she also felt her breath being knocked out of her chest. Clarke had just killed Finn. Clarke, her daughter, had just mercy killed Finn. An overwhelming feeling crushed on her chest as Abby finally began to realise a whole load of things. This is why Clarke was the leader of their people, despite the things she told herself. Slowly, her mature hand reached up and unpinned the chancellor’s badge. No longer did she feel a right to bare it.

∞

Lexa wasn’t sure what to do. On one side, her people held their weapons, ready to regain the justice they deserved. On the other, Clarke stood alone, her tears accompanying the blood on her body. Before Lexa could move, Anya hurried forward towards the mass of grounders which raged just to their right. 

“The murderer is dead. Now begins our new alliance with the sky people.” Lexa made her voice very audible above the terrorised shrieks of the desolate girl in the skycrew camp. 

As soon as her people began to retreat, Lexa turned her attention to Clarke who stood frozen like a stabbed warrior before they fall to their knees. Slowly, Lexa approached her jaw tensing as Clarke stared at the blood on her hands with a recognisable glare. With a soft hand Lexa guided Clarke back through her people to the large gate, where nobody muttered a word, but where she shared a worried glance with Clarke’s mother. Licking her lips, Lexa retreated, knowing there would be a lot to expect of her warriors in the upcoming days.

∞

The water splashed back down like heavy rain pour into the bathroom sink, untouched by the blood which coated Clarke's hands. To start off, Clarke had been gently rubbing her shaking palms together, in a deluded effort to shift the sticky substance; but as more time passed and less progress was made to remove the heavy feeling of the killing, she scrubbed until her skin was raw. Wincing, she persevered, the bristles of the brush failing in sweeping Finn’s blood from her, but managing to uncover a whole new layer of blood which came from Clarke herself. Suddenly she dropped the nailbrush; it clattered in the metal sink and was instantly drowning in the water which splashed around it from the tap above it. As Clarke looked up, her eyes fell on her face in the broken mirror which was mounted to the wall just above the medical looking sink. When the Arc had landed on earth, pretty much every mirror in the whole complex had shattered, and now as Clarke peered into it, she couldn’t help wondering why the cracks ran so in line with her reflection. Her eyes remained locked on the image ahead of her; the one of a blonde girl who looked very much so like Clarke. But this one had a face littered with bruises and gashes, deep bags under the eyes and the radiance of youth sucked out of it. The longer she stared, the more she could feel her emotions bubbling though her, like a volcano which was about to blow. Before she could explode, Clarke knew best to drag her eyes from the mirror, before she hurt herself, or anyone else. As they fell back on the running tap, Clarke jumped a step back, a gasp escaping her mouth. The water which had been flowing from the silver tap was now bloody, clogging the sink. Slowly the bubbling liquid began to brim the basin edge; Clarke was frozen to the spot. Glancing around, Clarke desperately jumped forward, sticking one hand into the sink, her other one hurriedly twisting the tap off. As soon as her hand dived into the gooey liquid, Clarke knew it was a mistake. Yanking, her hand was engulfed in the thick substance, unable to budge. As her other hand fumbled with the tap, no matter which way she turned it, the pouring never halted. A slight whimper escaping her throat, Clarke tugged, her hand only being drawn further into the shallow sink. A rising terror spread through her body, tears threatened rolling out of her eyes. With fast movements, Clarke thrust her elbow back, her hand aching as the liquid solidified around it. A shrill cry escaping Clarke's lips, the liquid flowed over the edge of the sink, slowly creeping towards her feet on the metal floor of the bathroom. Her focus on that, it took her a minute to realise the monster had released its grasp on her hand, and tugging it close to her chest she felt her tears begin to pour, her body jolting with each panicked breath.

“Clarke!” a voice behind Clarke sounded distant as she suddenly felt arms around her waist, her mother’s fitting figure wrapping around her, drawing her from inside her mind. As Clarke spun in Abby’s arms, her sobs rattled through her, her mother’s persistent ‘shhh, it’s okay’ slowly calming her rabid breaths. As they both swayed as one, Clarke settled, her tears soaking into Abby’s t-shirt. Slowly Abby pulled back, her hands still connected with Clarke's. “You’re okay,” she whispered, and Clarke forced a smile back, knowing her mom couldn’t be more wrong. 

That’s when Abby noticed the water which flooded out of the basin, and was flowing around their feet. A concerned look was riddled onto her face as she reached past Clarke and turned the flow off, undoing the plug at the same time. As Abby re-joined her and Clarke's hands she glanced down at the unusual texture, her breath stopping when she noticed the bloody rawness of her daughter’s skin. “Do you want me to,” she signalled down at Clarke's hands, the blonde following suit, “Bandage these up for you?” 

Clarke totally missed whatever her mom had just said. Deciding to nod, Clarke followed as her mother lead her back through to the quarter’s living room, sitting Clarke on the couch. As Abby rattled around in one of the metal draws, Clarke figured she was about to be bandaged up. Sitting back, Clarke let the sofa mould around her weary figure, only one stark image flashing before her eyes as she shut them. Instantly she snapped them back open. She guessed that it would be a long time before she would sleep again.

∞

As Lexa watched the body being unstrung from the post, a gnawing feeling tore at her stomach. Luckily, her warriors had been discreet in the down settling from the chaos of earlier, which had erupted from the injustice of Clarke's brave move. She watched as Gustus slung the body over a thin blanket, wrapping up the corpse, the darkness not permitting her to see much else as he worked without a torch; after death, Lexa's people believed that the body should not be within the a close distance to the licking tongues of flames right up until the pyre. They believed that the soul would jump into the flames, mocking the living for eternity. Only a pyre could rid of such hell; instead releasing the soul onto its journey, the flames too strong for the presence to remain.

The move Clarke had made had really opened Lexa's eyes. The blonde seemed willing before, but now; Lexa knew she should never have underestimated her. Not the Lexa actually had; she had always had a strange feeling since the moment Clarke had stepped into her tent, with the look of determination on her face. And this is why Lexa hadn’t allowed her army to take control back into their hands when Clarke had plunged her dagger into their soft spot. She trusted Clarke. Swallowing, she spun on her heel, making her way back to her tent. The air was light on Lexa's skin as she walked, the realisation setting in. Not only did she trust Clarke, she realised that Clarke is rogue. Under Lexa's command; although respecting of her people, Lexa never allowed stray forces reckon with her. But Clarke was out of her control. And for some reason, Lexa didn’t feel she had to be wary. Normally, if a spark escaped, Lexa would extinguish it pronto; but this spark she let fly, somehow it created a light in the darkness where she would not have ventured if it had not been there. 

Lexa pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she entered her tent, Anya was already in there.

“Even though you fancy her,” Anya begun, Lexa's eyes flying wide as she quickly crossed her arms, “I’d be careful,”

“Why?” Lexa exclaimed, her cheeks slowly dipping red, “And I don’t fancy her.”

“Because if that’s how she finishes things with her partners; you're not in too much luck.”

“Shof op, Anya” Lexa glared at her warrior, Anya's smug face only making her turn and drop her arms, shaking her head as she prepared for bed; tomorrow would be a stressful day.

∞

Clarke dragged herself to sit up, her back aching from lying stiff all night. Stretching it out, Clarke rubbed her tired eyes, which hadn’t actually closed properly all the rest of the night. As she rubbed, the strange texture of the bandages around her hands spiked her senses. Sighing, the stages of loss had quickly passed over Clarke during the silent hours of nothingness as she had laid staring at the same ceiling, this time just feeling a little bit more empty. 

To start off, her vision had been clouded by a thick smog of tears, which had eventually broken free and much like in the bathroom, Clarke had lost control. Finn was gone and she couldn’t really admit it. Then she had wiped her puffy eyes, the tears slowly bubbling into a rising anger. She had killed Finn. He had been looking for her, and she had to kill him for one mistake. All because of that condescending Commander that the grounders believed was some type of goddess forced her into doing. Clarke looked over at the desk which was fitted to the wall; all the contents which had been perched upon it sprawled across the floor, her mind flashing back to her enraged fit which was masked by sobs of anger and regret. After she had thrown around her few belongings so much that her body was empty, Clarke had returned to her cold bed, her mind working on the inevitable. So many questions had flown around her head that she had buried it under her pillow, hoping it would bring her release.  
‘If only he had been in the Mountain with me.’  
‘If only they weren’t allowed guns.’  
‘If only I had turned up a minute sooner.’  
She bargained with fate for hours, the realisation seeping into her brain the more questions she asked. By now her eyes were dry, chaffing with each heavy blink. She had actually lost her breath when she had fully realised what had happened, that Finn was gone. It hit her like a train, leaving her speechless, and her body still as she wrapped the covers further around herself. She realised that Finn’s body was still outside of the gates and she almost began to weep again, realising she had left him, she had left everyone. She was so busy with this alliance that she no longer seemed to be there for her friends when they needed her. Raven most definitely now hated her, she had let her down. Bellamy was only a face she passed by, Octavia just a useful ally. Shivering had overtaken Clarke's body as she had curled up in her dark bed. 

Now the light streamed through her open blinds, the strip of light which tingled on the skin of her bare feet provoking a new sense to overcome her body. She knew she had to push through, now would be no time to cave into the deep hole in the middle of her body. Taking another deep sigh, Clarke pushed herself up from the thin mattress, something catching her eye. It was gone before she could catch a glance at it. Funny, it must have been the sky clouding over the sun. Wincing as her raw hands pushed against the bandages on the door handle, Clarke dragged the door open. Jumping, she nearly wailed as she saw Finn perched on her couch, his foot up on the coffee table ahead of it. He spun a dagger in his hand, his focus on that. As Clarke's mouth fell open, he glanced up, an unfamiliar expression on his face. Clarke followed his eyes as he dropped then down, landing on the red patch which spread from his abdomen all over his shirt. Clarke whipped her eyes away, making sure she was alone bar from Finn, but when her eyes fell back onto the sofa, he was gone. Pulling her lips back into her mouth, Clarke shook her head, and then sauntered over to the kitchen sink which overlooked the small adjoining living room/kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water, an unsettling feeling spreading throughout her body.


	20. Chapter 20

It was the morning. Lexa always liked the morning, especially ones like these. It was sunny and warm, the last of the summer heat spilling out into the early air, with a nipping reminder of the winter which was approaching. Lexa took a deep breath through her nose, her hands behind her, shoulders straight. Around her, warriors bustled about; some preparing to head back to polis, some deconstructing tents, none of which, knew anything about the upcoming frost from the ‘approaching’ Azgeda. Lexa hummed slightly, knowing that her fighters would be staying in Trikru land if they had known of the threat from Queen Nia, bearing in mind many of them despised her and her assassins. Her eyes followed a messenger, the most fearsome one she could find, who was jogging towards the Skycrew fence with Anya right beside him. A slight smile almost spread on her lips as she watched Anya bouncing along, her long legs not designed for jogging, but more so for sprinting. Her emotions were sharp to be drawn back down and hidden away as she watched a guard from skycrew lift his gun as the two approached, a prickling sense of dread filling her body. Flicking her eyelids as he dropped the nozzle towards the ground, she saw someone hit a button, and then the gates begin to slide open. From the distance, she could still hear the melancholy drone of the electricity which powered the gate open. As the two entered the encampment, Lexa licked her lips, turned and headed towards her horse and Indra, who waited somewhere in the forest behind her. 

As she found her general, Lexa was surprised to see that not many warriors were heading back through the trees alongside her, the silence being unusual. Lexa wasn’t complaining actually, she enjoyed the peace from the buzz of polis where she usually resided. Her and Indra shared a nod, and Lexa could sense the tension from Indra instantly. Deciding she would have to mention that although the boy was dead unjustified, the deed was done, and that Indra would have to suck it up and deal with it. Mounting her horse, Lexa waited for Indra to do the same, and then heeded it forward, the crunch of autumn leaves filling the air. 

After the sun had risen above the pair, Lexa had found a path and now heard the low rumbling of a small group following behind her. Just as she was about to turn around, Gustus came up, his horse ambling beside her. The heaviness of his presence caused her to glance at him, finding his eyes already on her, and then he opened his mouth, and began to debate with her, his tongue speaking trigedasleng. He spoke of how fragile the move was to alliance with the skycrew, who resembled the Mountain Men far more than the 12 clans. Then Lexa reminded him of the goal of their alliance, to break the Mountain. Gustus didn’t seem to believe so.

“Mebi na teik oso kongeda au,” It could kill our coalition. He frowned, the deep crevices on his forehead defining his expression.

“Oso kongeda, o ai?” Our coalition, or me?

“Yu sou laik kongeda-de, Heda.” You are the coalition, Commander.

“Den dula yu du en shil ai op.” Then do your job and protect me.

Lexa swallowed, the unnerving conversation coming to an end. Gustus rode forward, leaving Lexa with a wary feeling inside her. She knew Gustus too well, and from his tone, he still was not convinced. Lexa knew he would do anything to protect her.

∞

Clarke caught her breath, a sharp pain in her stomach; she was unsure whether it was stitch or the pain from Raven’s dirty look. The large group sauntered outside the fence, beyond which was TonDC, Clarke unsure whether she should even be allowed in the small town. She turned to face the bunch that followed her, each one of them holding the same disturbed expression. Her mind flashed back to her conversation with Bellamy as they had trekked to the town, how he had noticed her silent presence and had reminded her that she had done the right thing and that he couldn’t lose her as well. It had given her a small bit of relief from the stress of everything and she had thanked him but told him that she was the one who now had to live with it. 

Clarke stared into the trees, a dash of blue catching her eye. Gulping, Clarke realised who it was. It was the fourth time that day that Finn had been just stood there amongst the trees, watching her, scolding her. She wanted to run to him, knock him away, but also hold him, tell him that she had no choice. 

Just then a familiar voice rang out, and the gate behind Clarke was ragged open, and as she turned, Lexa and Indra emerged on horseback from the other side. As they dismounted, Gustus appeared before Clarke's group, his rough voice demanding their weapons. Suddenly a cold breeze ran between then, cutting through Clarke as she hesitated to hand over her weapon.

“We need to disarm before we enter,” Lincoln stepped forward, dropping his knife into the metal bucket Gustus held out. He had quickly recovered, and now held a solemn face, a scar of his time as a reaper. He looked funny, wearing skycrew clothing, as his old clothes had been stripped at Mount Weather; the blue fabric of a bomber jacket looking strange on his ripped biceps. Clarke then followed, the clank of the metal resonating through her tired skull.

In suite, the rest of the group followed, their hands becoming empty and their holsters holding nothing. No words were spoken, the trees crowing around them in anticipation. Every member of the group was disarmed now, all apart from Raven, who had defiance painted all across her cheeks. Bottom lip pursed, eyebrows narrowed, she wore a face of fury which looked a lot more innocent than Clarke knew it was. As the rest of the group twitched with anticipation, in the already tense meeting outside the gate, Raven held her posture, her dark eyes glaring up at Gustus, who towered high above her. With sharp moves he yanked out her weapons from the obvious places, Raven gritting her teeth as she swayed in the aftermath of his jerking tugs. Her seething eyes never left his face, even when he scanned her body for concealed weapons. That was until he spun her around, and surprisingly, she made no resistance, her face now seeming all as childlike as the true pain seeped out onto her features. It was quickly whisked up as she was spun back around, again, Gustus finally yanking the final weapon from her backpack strap. 

Clarke sighed as Gustus informed Lexa of the group being clear of weapons, the first slice of tension sliding past them. Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a mixed glance at the sketchy feel of the situation as Lexa took off, her long sash draping over her shoulder and flowing onto the forest floor, resembling a trail of blood, one which Clarke followed. Slowly, the gates slid shut behind them, as their empty hands grappled silently under the discomfort of their vulnerability.

As the posse moved further into the encampment, the larger the group grew. With each footfall, a new member of Lexa's guard joined them, until they resembled the trees which should have grown in the clearing. Ahead, Clarke could see the back of Lexa's head, her hair woven into a pattern as intricate as the alliance they were pushing so hard to form. Not letting her mind drift, Clarke took in as many features of the tribal town as she could. The huts squatted in the same spots they had many weeks ago, when she had first encountered the village, however now their doors hung open, their residents blocking the dark entrances, many of which were families; families which were missing of a father, a mother or even a child. The dirt which was worked into their faces so hard informed Clarke of their labouring nature, that these people were not warriors, they were farmers, joiners and other professions which Clarke knew of. Behind the mask of dirt, Clarke could see the cracks, of which poured an internal misery, one of which was summoned by nothing other than Clarke's own people. The lives of these men, women and children had been drawn to this small town, in hope to avoid the conflict of their clans; but alas with the eruption of the skycrew descent, that hope had been shattered. Firstly, the war had been drawn to Trikru land, which brought the scent of fear on the wind to these people. Secondly, the rockets the 100 had launched to try contact their people, a month or so ago had torn back through the sky, alighting a village neighbouring TonDC, threatening the families with cackling flames and black smoke filled with destruction. And last but not least, Finn. His gun ripped through the village centre, where he had rounded the residents, his control slipping away as he fired, bodies hitting the mud like chopped wood. Clarke gulped as she pushed the thoughts back, tried to ignore the fact that she was probably the cause of why these families had their missing pieces. 

The gate sunk back into the forest behind the group as the ragged structures of the village grew around them; the metal rusted and plants creeping up their broad figures. There were large chunks of cement littered around, empty metal oil tanks and the corrugated roofing of shacks. The mundane leafs carpeted the floor, a track parting upon the commanders presence. Sunlight spotted down between the few trees which still stood so close to the border of the town, highlighting the hanging baskets and random objects outside the houses.

There were people everywhere. Many wore the heavy clad outfits Clarke had previously seen, and all of them seemed to call out at once, in trigedasleng only she observed. Defensively, Clarke brow thickened as she noticed the spears in their hands, her own balling up into fists. Beside her, she felt Bellamy tense, upon realising this too. The air was thick, but not with passing summer humidity.

“Heda, Heda! Mulei hu” welcome back. The flurry of voices tightened the knot in Clarke's core, the title of the Commander being thrown around like an insult. Clarke focused on Lexa, who only walked, her face unreadable. 

“Hakom yu aigon?” why have you brought them here?

“Neipon, Skikru! Ripa gon we hou!” death to the sky people! Murderers go home!

Clarke's head spun, her instincts telling her that they were not celebrating the arrival. As the voices grew, Clarke glanced about, her eyes running over faces of many ethnicities, reminding her of the many stations which had joined together to form the Arc.

Lexa halted suddenly, Clarke nearly bumping into the back of her. From behind Lexa's small figure, Clarke could make out a man, fury on his lips, blocking their way. Her mind flashing back to her fight a few days ago, Clarke knew that look all too well. 

“Skaikru don jak eting op kom ai: ai houmon, ai yongon.” Sky People took everything from me: my wife, my child.  
“Sef uf!” Move aside!  
“Ripa nou gou teik in hir!” Murderers are not welcome here!

 

The words danced about in Clarke's head, and the storyline sunk in. Her people had taken away everything from this man. She dropped her eyes to her boots, only catching a flick of Lexa's head as they landed on the ground. Shifting around slightly, Clarke's attention was snatched up when the man released a wail. He moaned again as Clarke watched Gustus’ hand smash into his nose, the smaller man landing on the mud. Fear surged through Clarke as she ran forward, dropping her mouth rapidly next to Lexa's ear.

“Commander,” her voice held plea, “Please stop him,” her hand came to rest on Lexa's elbow which jutted out, the Commanders hand resting on the hilt of her sword. When Clarke had spoken, Lexa's body had instantly tensed, but Clarke could now tell that Lexa had sunk back down a bit, her elbow coming to rest heavier in Clarke's grasp. The Commander continued to stare forward, her eyes on the beating of the man, but her attention was on Clarke, the shift of her jaw and slight tilt of her head concluding so. “They will blame us for this too.” Lexa rolled her lips together, almost hesitating.

“Teik em kik raun. Let him live. The punching immediately stopped, Gustus’ arm pausing in mid-air, hovering above the cowering man’s crimson features. Clarke let out a small sigh of relief, her breath shifting Lexa's hair which scattered over her pauldron. Only then did Clarke notice how close Lexa's body was to hers, with her front slightly pressing into Lexa's back. The other woman stood ridged, and even amongst the chaos, Clarke felt Lexa's mind being fully engaged on the intimacy of the pair. Her head turned to the side with her mouth open. When the brunette released a soft breath, Clarke jumped back, afraid she had just pushed past a border that she hadn’t even seen was there. When Clarke had taken a step back, Lexa's head flicked back forward and her shoulders lifted in a deep breath, her jaw tensing beyond belief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ey ey lexa is slowly not becoming less able to control her gay...


	21. Chapter 21

The sudden rush of cold air soothed Lexa's burning back, which now felt so exposed now that Clarke had so hastily shuffled back into the arms of her concerned looking people. Trying to frame herself; Lexa let her eyes drift over to the bloody man who scuttled away from Gustus’ reach, her mind falling back onto the tense situation she now found herself in. She pushed Clarke back into the depths of her mind, but like a persistent ringing, it kept flowing and capturing the rest of her focus. The heavy silence wrapped around Lexa, until Anya, seemingly unintentionally, knocked their arms together. 

With a controlled urgency, Lexa camouflaged her distraction and grasped the situation, like the leader she had been trained so hard to become. Taking a stride forward and pirouetting to face the residents of TonDC and skycrew members, she lifted her chin gradually, her eyes scanning the large audience ahead of her. All of her people looked over expectantly, their eyes filled with the normal gratitude, but also with a hint of what Lexa hoped was not uncertainty. Never before were her people uncertain of her command. “The Sky people march with us now,” all hint of emotion was smeared off of her face, as the realisation that Clarke and her people had actually been attacked by her own people sunk in. Clarke could have been injured because of the lack of Lexa's confirmation of the position the groups stand with each other. 

Thick smog clouded the air, one which was built with the eyes of her people; who eyed each other with shared glances of confusion. As Lexa's eyes roamed their unsettled faces, it struck a nerve within her. Now more than ever, with Nia’s threat, would Lexa have to boost the trust her people shared with her. Now a powerful tone reconciled in Lexa's voice, threatening anyone to defy her words, “Anyone,” she dropped her eyes to Raven, who shifted under her glare, “who tries to stop that,” her voice was cut off, nobody breathed, scared they would miss what she was about to say, “Will pay with their life. The silence was prolonged; it dug deep into Lexa, riddled with disbelief. Without letting the feeling past her senses, Lexa swivelled on her heel and made off towards the pyre which had yet to be lit.

∞

There was a curt walk to the centre of the village, which Clarke's eyes dashed around, screeching to a stop when they landed on a layered wooden structure; it was just taller than she. Instantly she knew what it was, but pausing, she didn’t allow her eyes to roam up to the body of who she knew she would see if she dared to glance at the top of it. Surrounding the base of the pyre, faded yellow sheets were wrapped around the bodies of those Finn had killed, intricate rope held the whole cover around the bodies. Around her, she noticed the stifle of breath from her crew, as they rushed into seeing, what Clarke had yet not. Diverting her eyes, Clarke tried to take in the expressions of her friends, but in each of their places she just saw Finn. He surrounded her. Clarke's mind was crawling, screaming that it was just in her head; but when every pair of eyes landed on her a choked sob shook from her throat. All at once, like a room made of mirrors, each Finn raised their hand, finger twitching in the direction of the pyre. “Look,” the word was only a mumble, but Clarke heard it clearly, “Look, look,” Finn repeated the one word, growing louder in volume each time. Clarke stiffened her jaw; her head slowly began to shake, defying the dead boy. Then suddenly the chanting stopped.

“Clarke,” 

“Huh?” Clarke spun back towards the voice which had called her name. She found Lexa's emerald eyes on her, an emotion she had faintly seen before held within them. Clarke cleared her throat, “Sorry what?”

“I’m going to start the ritual now.” The brunette didn’t ask a question at all, but from the hesitation in her voice, Clarke caught the implicitness of Lexa's words. Lexa was subtly asking for Clarke's permission. Frowning slightly, Clarke wondered why the Commander felt it necessary, but noticing that everyone’s eyes were upon her, Clarke nodded briefly, glad when Lexa's voice swept all attention to her.

“Kru kom Tondisi. Raun faya, oso wada klin laudnes-de da kom foutaim.” People of TonDC. In fire, we cleanse the pain of the past.

Immediately, Clarke's eyes narrowed under the grounder tongue, but when Lincoln's gentle voice soothed the issue out, she listened intently at the translation. When the words hit her, a sharp breath rattled down her throat, and she begged the sky to not allow her to cry here. Her eyes dashing around again, Clarke noticed Raven had already broken, and although her face was aimed at the floor, the tears still ran trenched on her cheeks. Clarke pursed her lips, the control feeling like it was draining out of her feet into the soil below.

A flicker of light caught her attention, and looking over to Lexa, an orange glow illuminated her skin. The Commander held out a torch, with a raging flame. It basked her in light, pushing Clarke into a confused sense of awe. Lexa looked so gentle, and Clarke realised that she was more than just a Commander. Even under the deep black of the war-paint. 

Her eyes straining to leave Lexa's face, Clarke noticed Anya was not present, unlike Indra. The smaller woman bounced up and down in anticipation, her eyes trying to push the flame onto the pyre with such desperation. But Lexa held it still. Clarke was ready for this to be over with, and having spoken with Anya that morning, she knew that all that was left for this ceremony was for Lexa to drop the flame to the wood, lighting the dead and freeing their souls. So Clarke waited, her eyes falling back onto the stoic Lexa, who stared straight ahead, as if captivated by a thought. 

Then she moved. Lexa turned, the torch pointing at Clarke. Certain unease spread over Clarke's body, but then their eyes met and she knew what Lexa wanted her to do. A whisper spread amongst the people, skycrew eyes pushing into Clarke's back.

“Clarke,” the soft roll of Clarke's name now drew the attention which wasn’t already on her, to her. Swallowing, Clarke questioned Lexa with her eyes, and when the brunette flicked her eyes in confirmation, she knew she had no choice. Clarke took a step forward, the second rustle of noise appearing since the crowd had formed around the pyre. Clarke found her eyes on Indra, who seemed to rifle in her skin, the warrior’s eyes clearly meeting those of Gustus’ in certain disapproval. 

Taking an unsure tread forward, Clarke caught Raven, from the corner of her eye, furiously shake her head in disagreement, but Clarke took yet another step and willingly took the flame from Lexa's slender hand. Now her eyes remained straight ahead, but Clarke knew how intently she was being watched; by her people, by Lexa's people, by Lexa herself. 

When she finally joined the brunette’s side, Clarke let their eyes meet and Clarke's shoulders dropped, a feeling of confidence jumping into her veins. But then it vanished, and in its place fell a sense of guilt as the bodies which lined up stared out at her. The weight of the torch increased with each second she held it out, her arm beginning to burn; but she didn’t care. Everything else fizzled away as Clarke registered the mess ahead of her. Destruction was now a part of her name and it seemed it was all she knew how to do. Therefore she dropped her arm forward, the pyre instantly setting alight. Taking a silent breath, Clarke pulled herself back into reality, and with the burning courage of the torch, she spoke, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

∞

Lexa's snapped her mouth shut the moment she noticed it was hanging open, all without releasing her eyes from Clarke's torch lit features. She had not expected that. Behind her, Lexa felt the mumbles of gratitude from her people, for the words which had just come from Clarke's mouth. Her mouth feeling like a desert, Lexa let her tongue wet her lips, causing them to shine like the tears which threatened Clarke's eyes.

∞

All that could be heard was the crackling of the pyre and the occasional sniffle from Raven. The warmth of the fire heated Clarke's shaking hands, the bandages now soaked with a woody aroma. The flames swallowed it all. Stepping back, Clarke just watched; her mind was in turmoil with emotions. 

The time didn’t matter. It could have been five minutes or even an hour, but to Clarke all she knew was that Finn was gone. As she watched the licking flames climb towards the midday sun, the alliance kept bumping back to the foreground of Clarke’s mind. That was her priority now. A rip ran through Clarke, splitting her focus in two. One half of her felt numb, from the constant pounding the earth seemed to pummel into her, the other half felt so alive. It felt so alive due to the thrill of war, to the prosperity of life, and also to that tingling feeling that Clarke couldn’t quite name.

Out of the blue, Lexa spoke, her voice capturing Clarke's attention now that they were pretty much alone. “I lost someone special to me too,” her voice was gentle and barely a whisper; somehow stirring a strange feeling within Clarke. It was tender and revealing, and made Clarke feel as though she was intruding beyond the Commanders hard shield. Neither of them looked at each other; Clarke was afraid to meet Lexa's eyes for fear of sealing back up the small crack in Lexa's wall. Lexa however watched the fire with a glisten of the past in her eyes. Clarke waited for her to elaborate, but Lexa held her mouth shut, Clarke realised shouldn’t have expected the commander to open up to her of all people  
. Deciding to finally break the glare she had bound to the fire, Clarke snuck a peek at Lexa; Lexa who now had eyes which told stories of pain. Clarke was transfixed on the other girl’s expression, as for it was probably the most human she had ever watched Lexa be. The brunette sucked in a deep breath of air, her shoulders straining under an invisible weight. “Her name was Costia,” Deep within that sentence was a longing, and that’s when Clarke realised Lexa hadn’t stopped talking because she didn’t want to, Lexa had stopped talking because the words struck a sharp pain within her. Clarke's brow furrowed as the name hung in the air, desperate to find anything to reply to Lexa, but instead, she just waited. Lexa swallowed, “She was captured by the ice nation, whose queen believed she knew my secrets.” The way the words rolled of Lexa's tongue, riddled with regret, with a hint of guilt. 

Clarke noticed her own mouth was jarred slightly open, and she quietly closed it, her eyes roaming Lexa's face, anticipating the story of Costia. Clarke noticed Lexa's hands rested on her sword hilt and her eyelids battered frequently, as if trying to brush away the felling which now lurked. “Because she was mine,” Lexa's nostrils flared, foreshadowing the emotion of the next sentence. She re-opened her mouth, about to speak, but closed it again, gulping down the bile in her throat, “They tortured her,” pain flickered over her features, “Killed her,” Lexa's voice cracked slightly, Clarke felt an anger within herself building up, “And cut off her head.”

“I'm sorry,” the words slipped out of Clarke's mouth instinctively, her mouth flitting open and shut like a fish on dry land. 

“I thought I’d never get over the pain,” now Lexa's voice trembled, “But I did.” Clarke's eyes dropped back onto the fire, the same pain flooding through her body. A sudden rush of emotions caused Clarke's jaw to shake as she questioned, “How?” her eyes becoming once again blurry with tears.

“By recognising it for what it is,” Lexa's voice pierced through Clarke's pain, causing both women to finally let their eyes meet. Clarke watched as Lexa hesitated before continuing, “Weakness.”

Clarke couldn’t believe her. For a moment, she believer Lexa was actually human, but the word she has just spoken confirmed otherwise, her shield back up and not budging. Feeling defeat push through her, Clarke once again questioned the now quiet Lexa. “What is? Love?” Clarke's voice now took its turn to crack as Lexa eyes flicked from her own, nodding as they went. But Clarke wasn’t taking that as an answer. “So you just stopped caring, about everyone?” Lexa held still, but then subsided and once again nodded, her eyes now on the dying fire. Clarke's going to join her. “I could never do that.”

∞

The statement was not aimed at Lexa, but yet she answered. “Then you put the people you care about in danger and the pain will never go away,” at this Lexa turned her eyes on Clarke, summoning blue to meet green, “The dead are gone Clarke,” she paused, Clarke's eyes laced with denial, “The living are hungry.” And with this, Clarke's eyes dropped, the words sinking in. Lexa decided it was time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGHHH IVE JUST HAD MAJOR EXAMS but lmao clexa comes before chemistry and stuff... obviously duhhhh


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> literally just beef

The sudden rush of cold air soothed Lexa's burning back, which now felt so exposed now that Clarke had so hastily shuffled back into the arms of her concerned looking people. Trying to frame herself; Lexa let her eyes drift over to the bloody man who scuttled away from Gustus’ reach, her mind falling back onto the tense situation she now found herself in. She pushed Clarke back into the depths of her mind, but like a persistent ringing, it kept flowing and capturing the rest of her focus. The heavy silence wrapped around Lexa, until Anya, seemingly unintentionally, knocked their arms together. 

With a controlled urgency, Lexa camouflaged her distraction and grasped the situation, like the leader she had been trained so hard to become. Taking a stride forward and pirouetting to face the residents of TonDC and skycrew members, she lifted her chin gradually, her eyes scanning the large audience ahead of her. All of her people looked over expectantly, their eyes filled with the normal gratitude, but also with a hint of what Lexa hoped was not uncertainty. Never before were her people uncertain of her command. “The Sky people march with us now,” all hint of emotion was smeared off of her face, as the realisation that Clarke and her people had actually been attacked by her own people sunk in. Clarke could have been injured because of the lack of Lexa's confirmation of the position the groups stand with each other. 

Thick smog clouded the air, one which was built with the eyes of her people; who eyed each other with shared glances of confusion. As Lexa's eyes roamed their unsettled faces, it struck a nerve within her. Now more than ever, with Nia’s threat, would Lexa have to boost the trust her people shared with her. Now a powerful tone reconciled in Lexa's voice, threatening anyone to defy her words, “Anyone,” she dropped her eyes to Raven, who shifted under her glare, “who tries to stop that,” her voice was cut off, nobody breathed, scared they would miss what she was about to say, “Will pay with their life. The silence was prolonged; it dug deep into Lexa, riddled with disbelief. Without letting the feeling past her senses, Lexa swivelled on her heel and made off towards the pyre which had yet to be lit.

∞

There was a curt walk to the centre of the village, which Clarke's eyes dashed around, screeching to a stop when they landed on a layered wooden structure; it was just taller than she. Instantly she knew what it was, but pausing, she didn’t allow her eyes to roam up to the body of who she knew she would see if she dared to glance at the top of it. Surrounding the base of the pyre, faded yellow sheets were wrapped around the bodies of those Finn had killed, intricate rope held the whole cover around the bodies. Around her, she noticed the stifle of breath from her crew, as they rushed into seeing, what Clarke had yet not. Diverting her eyes, Clarke tried to take in the expressions of her friends, but in each of their places she just saw Finn. He surrounded her. Clarke's mind was crawling, screaming that it was just in her head; but when every pair of eyes landed on her a choked sob shook from her throat. All at once, like a room made of mirrors, each Finn raised their hand, finger twitching in the direction of the pyre. “Look,” the word was only a mumble, but Clarke heard it clearly, “Look, look,” Finn repeated the one word, growing louder in volume each time. Clarke stiffened her jaw; her head slowly began to shake, defying the dead boy. Then suddenly the chanting stopped.

“Clarke,” 

“Huh?” Clarke spun back towards the voice which had called her name. She found Lexa's emerald eyes on her, an emotion she had faintly seen before held within them. Clarke cleared her throat, “Sorry what?”

“I’m going to start the ritual now.” The brunette didn’t ask a question at all, but from the hesitation in her voice, Clarke caught the implicitness of Lexa's words. Lexa was subtly asking for Clarke's permission. Frowning slightly, Clarke wondered why the Commander felt it necessary, but noticing that everyone’s eyes were upon her, Clarke nodded briefly, glad when Lexa's voice swept all attention to her.

“Kru kom Tondisi. Raun faya, oso wada klin laudnes-de da kom foutaim.” People of TonDC. In fire, we cleanse the pain of the past.

Immediately, Clarke's eyes narrowed under the grounder tongue, but when Lincoln's gentle voice soothed the issue out, she listened intently at the translation. When the words hit her, a sharp breath rattled down her throat, and she begged the sky to not allow her to cry here. Her eyes dashing around again, Clarke noticed Raven had already broken, and although her face was aimed at the floor, the tears still ran trenched on her cheeks. Clarke pursed her lips, the control feeling like it was draining out of her feet into the soil below.

A flicker of light caught her attention, and looking over to Lexa, an orange glow illuminated her skin. The Commander held out a torch, with a raging flame. It basked her in light, pushing Clarke into a confused sense of awe. Lexa looked so gentle, and Clarke realised that she was more than just a Commander. Even under the deep black of the war-paint. 

Her eyes straining to leave Lexa's face, Clarke noticed Anya was not present, unlike Indra. The smaller woman bounced up and down in anticipation, her eyes trying to push the flame onto the pyre with such desperation. But Lexa held it still. Clarke was ready for this to be over with, and having spoken with Anya that morning, she knew that all that was left for this ceremony was for Lexa to drop the flame to the wood, lighting the dead and freeing their souls. So Clarke waited, her eyes falling back onto the stoic Lexa, who stared straight ahead, as if captivated by a thought. 

Then she moved. Lexa turned, the torch pointing at Clarke. Certain unease spread over Clarke's body, but then their eyes met and she knew what Lexa wanted her to do. A whisper spread amongst the people, skycrew eyes pushing into Clarke's back.

“Clarke,” the soft roll of Clarke's name now drew the attention which wasn’t already on her, to her. Swallowing, Clarke questioned Lexa with her eyes, and when the brunette flicked her eyes in confirmation, she knew she had no choice. Clarke took a step forward, the second rustle of noise appearing since the crowd had formed around the pyre. Clarke found her eyes on Indra, who seemed to rifle in her skin, the warrior’s eyes clearly meeting those of Gustus’ in certain disapproval. 

Taking an unsure tread forward, Clarke caught Raven, from the corner of her eye, furiously shake her head in disagreement, but Clarke took yet another step and willingly took the flame from Lexa's slender hand. Now her eyes remained straight ahead, but Clarke knew how intently she was being watched; by her people, by Lexa's people, by Lexa herself. 

When she finally joined the brunette’s side, Clarke let their eyes meet and Clarke's shoulders dropped, a feeling of confidence jumping into her veins. But then it vanished, and in its place fell a sense of guilt as the bodies which lined up stared out at her. The weight of the torch increased with each second she held it out, her arm beginning to burn; but she didn’t care. Everything else fizzled away as Clarke registered the mess ahead of her. Destruction was now a part of her name and it seemed it was all she knew how to do. Therefore she dropped her arm forward, the pyre instantly setting alight. Taking a silent breath, Clarke pulled herself back into reality, and with the burning courage of the torch, she spoke, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

∞

Lexa's snapped her mouth shut the moment she noticed it was hanging open, all without releasing her eyes from Clarke's torch lit features. She had not expected that. Behind her, Lexa felt the mumbles of gratitude from her people, for the words which had just come from Clarke's mouth. Her mouth feeling like a desert, Lexa let her tongue wet her lips, causing them to shine like the tears which threatened Clarke's eyes.

∞

All that could be heard was the crackling of the pyre and the occasional sniffle from Raven. The warmth of the fire heated Clarke's shaking hands, the bandages now soaked with a woody aroma. The flames swallowed it all. Stepping back, Clarke just watched; her mind was in turmoil with emotions. 

The time didn’t matter. It could have been five minutes or even an hour, but to Clarke all she knew was that Finn was gone. As she watched the licking flames climb towards the midday sun, the alliance kept bumping back to the foreground of Clarke’s mind. That was her priority now. A rip ran through Clarke, splitting her focus in two. One half of her felt numb, from the constant pounding the earth seemed to pummel into her, the other half felt so alive. It felt so alive due to the thrill of war, to the prosperity of life, and also to that tingling feeling that Clarke couldn’t quite name.

Out of the blue, Lexa spoke, her voice capturing Clarke's attention now that they were pretty much alone. “I lost someone special to me too,” her voice was gentle and barely a whisper; somehow stirring a strange feeling within Clarke. It was tender and revealing, and made Clarke feel as though she was intruding beyond the Commanders hard shield. Neither of them looked at each other; Clarke was afraid to meet Lexa's eyes for fear of sealing back up the small crack in Lexa's wall. Lexa however watched the fire with a glisten of the past in her eyes. Clarke waited for her to elaborate, but Lexa held her mouth shut, Clarke realised shouldn’t have expected the commander to open up to her of all people  
. Deciding to finally break the glare she had bound to the fire, Clarke snuck a peek at Lexa; Lexa who now had eyes which told stories of pain. Clarke was transfixed on the other girl’s expression, as for it was probably the most human she had ever watched Lexa be. The brunette sucked in a deep breath of air, her shoulders straining under an invisible weight. “Her name was Costia,” Deep within that sentence was a longing, and that’s when Clarke realised Lexa hadn’t stopped talking because she didn’t want to, Lexa had stopped talking because the words struck a sharp pain within her. Clarke's brow furrowed as the name hung in the air, desperate to find anything to reply to Lexa, but instead, she just waited. Lexa swallowed, “She was captured by the ice nation, whose queen believed she knew my secrets.” The way the words rolled of Lexa's tongue, riddled with regret, with a hint of guilt. 

Clarke noticed her own mouth was jarred slightly open, and she quietly closed it, her eyes roaming Lexa's face, anticipating the story of Costia. Clarke noticed Lexa's hands rested on her sword hilt and her eyelids battered frequently, as if trying to brush away the felling which now lurked. “Because she was mine,” Lexa's nostrils flared, foreshadowing the emotion of the next sentence. She re-opened her mouth, about to speak, but closed it again, gulping down the bile in her throat, “They tortured her,” pain flickered over her features, “Killed her,” Lexa's voice cracked slightly, Clarke felt an anger within herself building up, “And cut off her head.”

“I'm sorry,” the words slipped out of Clarke's mouth instinctively, her mouth flitting open and shut like a fish on dry land. 

“I thought I’d never get over the pain,” now Lexa's voice trembled, “But I did.” Clarke's eyes dropped back onto the fire, the same pain flooding through her body. A sudden rush of emotions caused Clarke's jaw to shake as she questioned, “How?” her eyes becoming once again blurry with tears.

“By recognising it for what it is,” Lexa's voice pierced through Clarke's pain, causing both women to finally let their eyes meet. Clarke watched as Lexa hesitated before continuing, “Weakness.”

Clarke couldn’t believe her. For a moment, she believer Lexa was actually human, but the word she has just spoken confirmed otherwise, her shield back up and not budging. Feeling defeat push through her, Clarke once again questioned the now quiet Lexa. “What is? Love?” Clarke's voice now took its turn to crack as Lexa eyes flicked from her own, nodding as they went. But Clarke wasn’t taking that as an answer. “So you just stopped caring, about everyone?” Lexa held still, but then subsided and once again nodded, her eyes now on the dying fire. Clarke's going to join her. “I could never do that.”

∞

The statement was not aimed at Lexa, but yet she answered. “Then you put the people you care about in danger and the pain will never go away,” at this Lexa turned her eyes on Clarke, summoning blue to meet green, “The dead are gone Clarke,” she paused, Clarke's eyes laced with denial, “The living are hungry.” And with this, Clarke's eyes dropped, the words sinking in. Lexa decided it was time to leave. 

Hurrying down the dusty steps which lead to the underground bunker; of which Lexa had only been down recently, but for a cause so different both times, she felt the pain which was pushing against her chest dissipating a slight bit. Since the first time Lexa had visited the large bunker had been transformed from a cell to a banquet hall. Between the battered walls which depicted tiles and words from before the bombs, a huge feast was laid out, the residents of TonDC scuttling around preparing the food. Lexa stepped fully down into the old shelter, the lavish smells of her people’s cuisine flooding her body with joy. It was only temporary, as for embarrassment took over Lexa's mind again. Why had she told Clarke about Costia? Although Clarke hadn’t really seemed too interested in Lexa's previous lover much anyway, the gnawing guilt Lexa felt for over exposing herself weighed her down. Even though throughout the years Lexa had gained many skills, such as fighting, masking expressions and bearing the kill marks she had earned; but one attribute that threatened Lexa's overall commanding spirit was the lack of ability to stop caring, to stop feeling. Granted she had learnt how to hide it, how to bundle it up into the small pain that tugged at her heart every now and then but oh boy did she still feel it. And now, she preached to Clarke to move on from her connections, to stop caring about everyone she loved (and yes it was clear that Clarke loved many people) and it only added to the pile of stress Lexa felt closing in on her. But that matter had to be forgotten about when an alliance was peeking just around the corner, but even closer, food.

∞

Clarke sat on a log which stretched out along the side of a corrugated shed, the damp dew from the rain the night before had brought still hung in the moss, seeping through Clarke's black trousers. The cold wet didn’t even catch Clarke's attention, as her head was in turmoil, thoughts of which were generated from the affairs of the time in TonDC. The Commander had opened up to her. Momentarily so but still, it had allowed Clarke to sneak a glimpse of Lexa, not the Commander. 

A flicker of movement drew Clarke's eyes from the soggy earth, the broad figure of Gustus approaching her. Clarke narrowed her eyes, the man moved over with intent, but with a face of disapproval. “Klark,” her name was flicked out. Her eyes remained on him, and instead of speaking, she stood, her body hidden in the shadow of Gustus’ power packed frame. Without thinking, her hand drifted to where her gun holster sat, her fingers finding nothing but air. When the deep voice stuck out again, Clarke's hand flitted back, delving into her pocket. “Now we will feast,” with weathered hands, Gustus pointed to the doorway from which voices swelled out, “The Commander has arranged food, for your people,” looking past Clarke, Gustus’ eyes ran across the rest of the skycrew who had secluded themselves in a bubble of silence and worry. 

“What?” Clarke muttered, unsure why she hadn’t already been informed about this.

“This food can tie our clans together in a coalition,” he spat out the word, “But I expect you will present a gift for our Commander, as she has been so generous to you.” 

Clarke's eyes slightly widened, the new pressure already gnawing at her mind. “We would have brought a gift,” Clarke bit back, “If we had of been informed earlier.” Clarke bit her lip, taking a step to the side and shaking her head, disbelieving that the whole coalition could implode due to a missed bit of information. 

“That is why,” Gustus stepped back in front of Clarke, “I have brought you this,” from within the depths of his shabby overcoat; a pale blue bottle was drawn. Clarke recognised it, they were the same bottles of which skycrew had held so dear whilst in space, the alcohol reserved for when foot was to meet ground. 

“How the hell did you ge-” Clarke began, Gustus slicing her words with his own.

“I knew that your Kru would come unprepared, therefore, I had a warrior go with Anya when the news of the pyre was given this morning,” he held out the large chunk of glass towards Clarke, “They retrieved it for me, and now I present it to you.” 

Clarke didn’t know whether to be furious, shocked, or even feel insecure of her people’s guard but instead she warily took the bottle. It was cold on her fingers, stinging slightly, her palms protected by the bandage. Clarke nodded at him, her words for thanks not available. Spinning around, she stormed off towards her gang, of who didn’t appear any keener to see Clarke storming towards them. 

“Alright,” Clarke piped up, her voice drawing all eyes on her, “it turns out the Commander has arranged a meal for us,” with this sentence, an echoing round of groans filled the air, by now the day had done its job in draining the whole skycrew and everyone had their hands outstretched with desire at their beds. “Look, we all want to leave, I know,” Clarke tried to appeal to her crowd, but recently she had become a stranger to many of its members, “But if you ever want to save our friends, our people. If you ever want to have days where you don’t have to worry about a death threat, then we need to join the Commander as a group who seem eager to stand by her; not as a group of people who can’t even appreciate good food.” 

“Why do you have that?” Kane inquired the moment Clarke had made her point; his one arched eyebrow rose at the sky blue bottle which Clarke clasped. 

Clarke's mouth jarred as it opened, not knowing if her group had noticed the encounter she had just had with Gustus. One thing that she did know though was that the whole posse would freak out if they felt the underlying discomfort from the news of the bottles source. The idea of their powerful electric fence back home not actually working very well was definitely not going to be an easy concept to grasp for them. “Erm..” she halted, realising that all eyes now lurked on her with suspicion and knowing that if she stalled any longer they would soon start throwing accusations, “Don’t freak out,” she pleaded, the staring eyes furrowing more so, the thick humidity in the air crackling, “Gustus commissioned a scout to retrieve it from our stash,” instantly Clarke was cut off by a flurry of voices, her eyes sealing shut in a heavy sigh at the drone of the voices, just as she had expected them to do so. 

“What the hell-”

“So they are now stealing things from us?”

“How did they even know that we had this in the first place?”

“Guys! Can you all just shut up?” Clarke's voice was shrill, the knowledge that the Commander must have been waiting for Clarke's clan to meet them at the table now gnawing at her mind. “Don’t ask questions okay? We are lucky Gustus did, it would have been disrespectful to show up baring nothing for the Commander in exchange for her greetings to an alliance,” Clarke paused, expectantly glancing around at the hushed crowd, “Now we better get down there, and remember, this is for our friends, our family in the Mountain.”

∞

The heavy silence bounced off of Lexa's thick shield as a flash of blue and blonde caught her eyes from across the bunker. To her side, Indra shifted on her feet, Lexa holding back the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious discomfort of the smaller woman. She was a trained warrior, supposedly able to mask her emotions. 

As Clarke's figure moved into the dark space, the candlelight adding depth to her features, Lexa observed the other members of the skycrew trail down the sun lit stairs behind her. Seemingly unsure, Clarke positioned herself across the long table from Lexa, whose eyes she met. Lexa felt her chest tighten as she held a stoic face at Clarke, not allowing her to grant the blonde a look of clarity. Before her wall could crumble, Lexa snatched her eyes from Clarke's, now noticing that the rest of the skycrew lined up before the layout of food; the varying expressions strange to see. Most, if not all of the gang held a badly hidden face of pain, loss. But most managed to see through this, holding a respecting figure in front of the Commander and her meal. The girl, who Lexa knew as Raven, stood with a vacant face, staring at her feet. Lexa knew that she had been hit hard by recent events, and even though the pair barely knew each other, Lexa felt a twinge of sympathy for her; she seemed at a loss, incapable of even registering the formality of the gathering. 

With the movement of the late afternoon sun, a ray suddenly splashed across the table, through a small hole in the top corner of the bunker. It illuminated the room, the warmth making Lexa's skin tingle. 

“Please,” Marcus Kane's voice captured the attention of the room, “Accept this gift,” In an outstretched hand, the well-preserved bottle was presented, Lexa gingerly glancing at Clarke who only stared wistfully back at her. “We drink this at special occasions, and I believe this qualifies.” 

His hand held still, the man who Lexa had encountered for the first time shining through once again. She believed he seemed to mean well. Deciding not to leave Kane hanging forever, Lexa signalled Gustus to fetch the bottle. Lexa's brow slightly dipped when she noticed where Gustus had just been staring, with a partially smug expression. As Gustus accepted the bottle, Raven’s head finally bopped up, now aware of the situation. Lexa knew she hadn’t noticed Gustus’ eyes upon her, but brushed the unsettling feeling away and then obtained the bottle herself. 

“Thank you,” She met eyes with the bearer of the gift, “Marcus of the sky people.” She spoke his name, with hope that it would clear the air of any anger still remaining from her first encounter with him and the other man, Thelonious Jaha.

He held a slight smile, an indicator that he accepted the clear up, “It’s okay,” his face turned a bit more serious as he worked out his next few words, “Leksa kom Trikru,” Lexa lifted her chin, surprised at his trigedasleng, but before she could mention of his good pronunciation he seemed to babble in embarrassment, “Just –er, don’t drink too much of it.” His smile was back.

There was a moment of silence. In this moment Lexa remembered the conversation she had previously had with Gustus, about the safety of her, and the coalition. Even though she felt a strange urge to trust this crew, Lexa knew better than to let herself roam as freely as that. So she spoke up.

“Clarke,” the blondes head drew to face her with an inquisitive look. “Let us drink together,” Lexa noticed a few of Clarke's people tense up, and she was unsure why. Before Lexa had time to think about it, Clarke replied, her voice weary, sounding more like a sigh than a sentence. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

∞

Clarke knew exactly why Lexa had asked her to drink with her. Not because she wanted to honour Clarke as a leader, but because she was desperate to know that the skycrew were trustworthy. If the drink was spiked, the crew would be killing their leader. Clarke knew this the moment Kane had offered Lexa the bottle. But she wasn’t afraid; hell was she ready for this drink.

From behind Lexa, Gustus reached for two metal beakers, passing them both to his Commander. Lexa poured the clear liquid in turn and then re-corked the blue bottle. As she set it down amongst the food, Gustus broadened his shoulders next to her. Lexa reached out to Clarke with a glass, and she accepted it, the surprisingly comforting feeling of Lexa's eyes burning into her own. Before anyone could have moved, Gustus’ voice filled the air.

“Heda, allow me.” There was stillness as Lexa didn’t remove her eyes from Clarke's, but instead handed her glass to Gustus. The sunlight had shifted away, casting darkness back over the set. The candles danced in anticipation, much like the shared glances from the skycrew eyes. Gustus took his sip, the metal of the cup clinking as he passed it back to Lexa. Then there was silence again. Clarke scanned the expressions, or lack thereof, from the grounders facing her. 

“Tonight we celebrate our new found peace,” a warm bubbling sensation spread through Clarke at these words, “Tomorrow, we plan our war,” These words then reminded Clarke of the true situation, eliciting a turmoil which spread through her like a disease. “To those we have lost,” Lexa raised her glass, Indra flinching at the words, her arms crossed. “To those that we shall soon find.” Clarke heard Raven huff a few seats down. 

Clarke's eyes remained on Lexa's, the other woman giving a small nod, suddenly reminding Clarke of the weird time in the tent, where she had been knocked out by the rowdy grounder, and this harsh woman ahead of her had been the one who had bathed her wounds whilst she slept. Clarke's mind cleared as she slowly raised her glass to her lips, a feeling of relief nearly upon her. Lexa shared the same expression as the metal hung in front of her lips.

A loud heave snapped through the room, Gustus’ mammoth body hung across the table, Clarke's hand dropping from her mouth. Voices began to ring into a frenzied siren as plates slid off the table from which Gustus’ body convulsed like an eel in a boat. Clarke shot looks at her family who only gave her the panicked expression that she held herself. Splutters echoed around the room as Clarke felt a scream rising in her chest. Nothing could ever just be fine, could it? With balled up fists, Clarke's eyes now connected with Lexa's, which were flaming in her direction. They snapped away from Clarke's grasp before she could even try to shout that this wasn’t her fault. Clarke's watched as Gustus lunged backwards, the word poison being thrown into the air as his heavy body colliding with the back wall, sending small crumbles of concrete down onto the shoulders of Lexa and the other grounders that were at his side. With no hesitation, Bellamy smacked the beaker from Clarke's hand, sending the liquid onto the tip of Indra's suddenly drawn sword. 

“It was the Sky people.” The words snapped out of Indra's mouth like the tongue of a snake, causing Clarke's people to flinch backwards. Like a bolt of lightning, the table was thrust to the side by some of Lexa's men, Bellamy storming forwards in the defence of his people. Raven scrambled after him, tugging his black jacket with no luck. Clarke dived forward, nearly reaching the sharpened metal of Indra's third arm if Octavia hadn’t of slung her arm around her waist. 

“This wasn’t us,” Clarke's shrill voice resembled that of the grounders swords being unsheathed, “You have to know this wasn’t us!” in a high pitched squeal Clarke's voice broke off, lost in the chaos of noise.

Lexa's voice now rang out, amongst the flurry of accusations, “Sou nou teik em gon op.” do not let him die.

Instantly, Indra threw out commands, the warriors among them diving straight to her word. “Gon yo we! Pat emo daun!” everybody out! search them!

Grounders pointed their swords at the skycrew, like children would point fingers. As they advanced on the crew in the small cabin, Bellamy jumped in front of his people, his arms raised to protect them. A sharp ‘no’ fell from Clarke's lips as she was huddled back into a corner, noticing the Commander pick up the bottle from across the room. Bellamy was grasped first, two brawly grounders ragging his body until they proved nothing. Clarke repeatedly shouted no, but nobody was listening. Bellamy was thrust to the side as squads moved in, grabbing each skycrew member by turn.

“Please,” she squeaked, “You have to know we didn’t do this!” this time Lexa heard her. Like a fireball, Lexa shot over to Clarke, her face upturned in a grimace of fury, all she could see was red. 

“Gustus warned me about you,” she spat the words, Clarke's eyelids flickering with each syllable, “But I didn’t listen,” 

Clarke stepped forward, remembering that the Commander was still a human. “Lexa please,” she gasped, cut off by the dark haired woman.

“Tell me something Clarke,” Lexa's voice was pure venom, slicing into Clarke with nothing but truth, “When you plunged that knife into the heart of the boy you loved,” the chaos in the background faded away momentarily as Clarke's eyes widened, “Did you not wish it was mine?” Lexa's eyes waited, Clarke not giving a response. They both knew the truth hung in the air, unspoken words seeping into their ears. Clarke's eyes drifted from Lexa's, caught by a figure behind her. He had returned. Finn stood with the same expression as Lexa, his hands reaching out to grasp Clarke's throat. Clarke, startled, jumped back, the raucous buzz coming abruptly to a stop as a guard mentioned Lexa's title.

“Heda,” suddenly Finn had gone, Clarke's eyes focused on Raven who two guards had hung in the air, her one leg shaking, desperate to reach the ground again. One of the men held forward a small phial as the other one dropped her down, her voice stating, “That’s not mine!”

Nobody listened though as the guard said, “Dison don kamp raun em oukou…” this was in her coat...

Yet Raven persevered, I’m telling you that’s not mine!” she spun around, trying to look intimidating to the massive warrior in front of her, “He put it there when he searched me!” the warrior handed Lexa the small glass, holding a white, powdered substance. Raven once again spun around, all eyes now on the Commander. 

∞

Lexa's jaw spun as she observed the phial, her nostrils flaring. Slowly looking up, Clarke stepped forward, their eyes meeting; the blondes begging Lexa to not do what they all knew was about to happen. The blue crystals only urged Lexa on further this time, her veins pumping and her mind blood red. “No sky person leaves this room!” for the first time Lexa raised her voice, pure anger seeping out from her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry i havent uploaded for a while :( i've been very busy but i shall be uploading a lot over the next few days. thanks for reading and please remember to leave comments


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh ohhhhh

As the dark passage from which Lexa emerged fell behind, the cool air clamped to her blushed cheeks, hidden under the black warpaint which streamed down her skin. Her fingers twitched as she heard the clattering of Gustus being assisted to the medical hut occur behind her. She couldn’t believe she had trusted them. Sky people, they came from the heavens above, like meteors pummelling the earth’s skin, snapping the trees and polluting the water. 

A slim hand landed on Lexa's shoulder, breaking her cloud of anger for a second.

“What’s happened?” it was Anya's voice, the confusion sweeping to her long face as she warily glanced between Gustus’ limp body being dragged off and the loud shouts coming from the underground bunker.

Lexa sighed, clamping the bridge of her nose with two fingers, and then moaning when she remembered she was wearing warpaint; dropping her hand quickly, in hope she hadn’t smudged it. “We shouldn’t have trusted them,” she began, kicking a twig which had fallen under her feet, “I shouldn’t have trusted them.” 

Anya's brow furrowed, her chest still heaving slightly from her journey from the Skycrew camp. “Lexa, what’ve they done?”

With a sealed mouth, Lexa turned away from Anya, her head shaking as she placed her hands on her hips and swayed, desperate to let the red dissipate from her vision. But with every shrill wail from the dungeon below, a new nerve was hit, Lexa's anger gradually building back. Anya reached out, her hand coming to grasp Lexa's bicep. In a flash, Lexa had whipped around, wolf-like her teeth were bared, and she whispered only an inch away from Anya's face, “They tried to poison me,” Anya snatched her hand away, her wide eyes focused on Lexa's grimace until it fell away, “I’m sorry,” Lexa apologised. She shook her head again, “I'm just,” she paused, unsure of what she was feeling.

“Feeling guilty,” Anya popped in, knowing exactly how Lexa was feeling, also knowing that the younger woman wouldn’t admit it. “It’s okay, you couldn’t have known.” Lexa nodded slightly, unconvincingly, her shoulders sinking a tad more.

∞

Following Lexa's raged disappearance, Clarke just sat in a heap on the dusty floor. The scene wouldn’t stop replaying in her head; Gustus falling back, his eyes trained on her, Lexa's fury, and Indra’s comment when the Commander had left. The general had been the last to leave through the once opened bars which now held the stairs at arms-reach; she had paused momentarily as Lincoln had pleaded to speak for the skycrew. She had only sniggered at him, her upturned lips sneering the words ‘you are them’ before she had bolted around and sealed their fate with a slam of the lock.

Lifting her head from her hands, the bandages now soaked a permanent brown; Clarke let her eyes drift around the cell. In one corner, Kane and her mother were deep in a hushed battle, their words slipped out hastily and unrecognisable. Bellamy was making a racket in the corner; he was poking about with a metal prong at the one hole that the sun now refused to shine through. To Clarke's right, Octavia and Lincoln just waited. They sat with intertwined fingers, their eyes holding deep thoughts which Clarke knew caused the tapping of their feet and the beads of sweat on both of their foreheads. Alone, Raven struggled. Clarke didn’t quite know why, but she had a good idea as to why the other girls lip was pouted and the tear tracks were engraved into her cheeks. 

Clarke had lost Raven. In every way she could imagine; Clarke had lost her friendship, her love, her care and her compassion. Anger and frustration seethed out of Raven’s skin, it created an aura around her which seemed as deadly as the acid fog to Clarke. The moment Clarke had plunged that knife into Finn, was the same moment that most of Raven’s heart strings had snapped, and that her motions had gone nub, her mind had shut down. She seemed oh so blank, which just wasn’t right, Clarke knew how intelligent Raven was, that her brain couldn’t just go blank so suddenly. But yet, here Raven was, with her eyes off focus, her mouth slightly ajar, seemingly nothing was happening inside that head of hers. Although the other girl was renowned for her scientist work, her knowledge of chemicals, Clarke didn’t doubt that Raven hadn’t done this. But she had to be sure, lately a lot was coming as a surprise to Clarke, and she had to get to the bottom of this. 

Hesitantly, Clarke got to her feet. She was nervous as she approached Raven, but she knew it had to be hidden. Regardless of their newly constructed border, Clarke moved across the bunker. “Raven,” the name came out shaky to begin, but then forceful, catching the girl’s attention. Clarke wasn’t even met with a dirty look, she was only dishevelled by Raven as she didn’t even look up, and her eyes dropped her focus to her leg brace. “I need to know the truth,” Clarke continued, whispering gingerly. 

“I would take a step back if I was you,” Raven replied, her voice hoarse, and her eyes still flitting around the ground. Veins stood out on her forehead, her lips crusty with dried blood, evidently from the teeth marks which were scattered along the darker skin. Clarke didn’t want to bring up the point with burned at the front of her mind; Clarke didn’t want to break this girl anymore. 

Her mouth dropping open, Clarke clamped it shut, chewing the inside of her cheek. “You wanted me to kill Lexa yesterday,” as soon as the words escaped her lips, Clarke's eyes narrowed; Raven’s jumping from the floor, causing her shoulders to surprisingly creep up higher than they already were. “If you tried to poison her, I need to know.”

There was an abrupt silence as Raven froze completely; Clarke could feel all eyes on her back. She gulped. Then like a flash of lightening Raven rose, her hand swinging and colliding against Clarke's cheek. An outraged scream rippled out of Raven, almost masking the yelp which jumped from Clarke. Almost immediately, Abby was there beside Clarke, who cradled her bloody face and turned back to face her shaking attacker. “You're the only murderer here!” Raven’s voice shook. It cracked and shook as she wailed the words, like broken glass it scarred Clarke's ears, reminding her of the mess she had made. 

Now a crowd had formed, Octavia lurking between the girls, ready to grasp whoever moved first. But Clarke didn’t move, her nostrils flared and her skin boiled, her chest quivered, her bandaged hands pulsing in clenched fists, but she didn’t move. 

As she scanned Raven’s bloodshot eyes, a movement caught Clarke's attention. And looking past Raven, she saw him, again. With a smug face and bloody hands, Finn waited by the gate. His eyes seared into Clarke's tender skin, knowingly, causing her to squirm like a child. Her breathing was fleshy as she stared back at him. With a breathy whisper, Clarke confronted the dead boy, “Leave me alone,” he only stared back, “You gave me no choice!” her voice gradually grew, her shaky breaths rattling from her chest which felt like it was about to implode, “Why did you turn yourself in?” now a shriek, Clarke felt her mother’s hands drag her back into the cell, the boy dissipating with a simple blink. But Clarke couldn’t stand it. As she realised that three pairs of confused eyes peered at her face, glimpsing at the spot where Finn had stood, she turned, snatching out of her mother’s grasp. Hushed words from Abby’s lips were missed as Clarke stormed past the food lined table, an untucked chair becoming her haven as she fell onto the wood, her hands clamped between her rocking thighs.

It had been a while, Clarke had watched the stub of a candle burn down completely, it fading away like the trembles which had shook Clarke's frame. The moment had passed but Finn still lingered in Clarke's mind. Behind her the other members of her crew had fallen silent, the only sounds being the distant conversations above them. Clarke peeped up at the sound of approaching footsteps, and saw Kane wandering towards her. Coming to lean against the wall next to her, he met her eyes, his mouth opening. “Lexa needs this alliance as much as we do,” his sudden words struck Clarke, her brow knitting as she wondered where he was going with this, he shifted, drawing out another seat and placing it next to Clarke's. He sat, and then continued. “She has shown herself to be flexible. She listens to you.” 

Clarke's eyes trailed off, Kane's words making sense. But the sinking feeling in Clarke's stomach returned. “She thinks we tried to kill her,” her voice was feeble, guilt ridden as for she knew this all too well. Lexa wanted this to work and Clarke recognised the scale of the compromise Lexa was making. But none of that mattered because Clarke had betrayed the other woman, which struck a deep nerve within the blonde. 

Kane wore a slight smile, a regretful one at the least. “But we know that we didn’t,” his point captured Clarke, the grey stubble on his chin causing his warm face to grow even warmer, “So let’s find out who did,” his eyes twinkled as Clarke began to latch onto the idea. “Who would want her dead?”

“Too many to count,” the hope was interrupted as Lincoln's voice broke into the air. “Forming an alliance with you was a risk,” his eyes fell to his feet, his skycrew clad arms clasped around his front, “Especially after what Finn did to this village.”

“So it would have to be someone who is trying to break this alliance,” now Octavia perked up from Lincoln's side, but she was soon interrupted as a loud clatter from the gate caused the whole room to jump. Sprinting over to Bellamy who now danced to attention, Octavia gave a nervous glance at Raven.

A swarm of Trikru huddled into the room, familiar faces amongst the small group. “How’s Gustus?” Lincoln spoke out to Nyko who was with the group.

“Gustus will live.” the healer’s voice didn’t seem to remember his and Lincoln's friendship; instead it cut like a scalpel. 

Next the air was filled with Trikru tongue, which didn’t differ much from English. Indra's voice sniped out, her lips sealing ravens fate as she commanded, ‘Take her away’, the three warriors hiking towards Raven with intention. A chaos rustled up as Kane shouted his protests, Bellamy joining him. A small wall formed around Raven, battling the warriors as Indra's voice piped up once again. 

“I argued for you all to die,” like an arrow her voice pierced the air, “But the Commander is merciful, she wants only one.” Her beady eyes shot to Raven, who cowered in the cement corner.

With a soft voice Lincoln reckoned, “She’s innocent,” but Indra pushed forward.

“I don’t care,” she moved with intention over towards Raven, stopping just before her warriors. “If they move, then they bleed.” It was her last command as the bulky men ripped down, battering anyone who stood in their way. Bellamy was struck; he stumbled away as Kane was too. Raven was grabbed, her legs dragging along in acceptance as she was hoisted out of the cell, Octavia trying to chase but being grabbed by a bloody Bellamy. 

Indra waited until the sound of the warrior’s boots had left the crumbling staircase, and then she addressed the rest of the petrified skycrew. “The rest of you are free,” she let her hand rest on the hilt of her sword, “When she is dead, then so is the alliance,” Clarke felt her heart fall into her mouth, “You should run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a lot of gay shit coming up very soon ;)))))) are youuuu readyyyyyyy??!?!?!?!?!?


	24. Chapter 24

With her hands bound above her head, in an unwilling surrender, the Skygirl quivered against the post. The lone pylon overlooked the village, its carved skin disfigured by the crimson gashes which had scarred like claw marks in its surface. A vine had attempted to climb up the indented bark from the dry soil beneath, but had died rapidly, its drab carcass twisted around the pole, imitating the rope which enslaves Raven’s wrists high above it.

The girl’s feet stuck to the ground but did not support her. White knuckles took the weight as they clung onto the rope, maybe she believed that if she squeezed it hard enough it might snap and free her. But no, there she was, with not just one useless leg but two, and her lip upturned in a terrified grimace. With each considerable inhale, her chest puffed out, trembling like a leaf until the air was rushed out of her lungs. Her large eyes stared back at Lexa, who waited before her, with pleading sorrow and a feeling held within them that Lexa knew all too well. 

“I take no joy in this Raven.” Lexa stepped forward, her throat clenching up with a nibbling sense of discomfort. Around her, onlookers beamed with wide eyes, across the stage. Their anger fuelled hatred was to now be answered. 

∞

If the sleepless night before hadn’t taken such a toll on Clarke's physical strength, she would have sure kicked the upturned table in front of her. Her stomach flipped with each piercing scream that echoed out of Raven’s mouth above her. Too many times had Clarke heard that same screech from her friend, but never before had Clarke felt the pending sense of dread that she did now. Her coloured cheek still tingled from Raven’s smack, only bringing forward the pain of their snowballing fight. Clarke had turned her back on one of the only people that had ever cared about her, and as more and more time ticked by, Death’s grasp reached for Raven. Yet Clarke was still down in the bunker. Her shoulders sagged as she was overcome with a mixture of feelings, her brain too distant to process them. Clarke didn’t think the situation could get any worse, as her eyes scanned over the footsteps in the food which littered the ground, which was until a movement ahead of her caused her to look up. 

With a creased brow, Clarke's face became drenched in red as her eyes met with those of a person she had never wished to see again, who she never thought she would see again. 

“Why are you here!” her voice was rash, her hands flying into the air. Finn just stared back at her with an unshifting expression. “Why can’t you just leave?” Clarke spun around, grasping her mouth as a slight sob echoed up out of it. Her eyes fuzzed over as she turned back to face him, another one of Raven’s wails resonating in the enclosed space. “Haven’t you already done enough?” as frail as an antique she spoke, the mixture of feeling sounding out in her question, “Why didn’t you help yourself? Why didn’t you help me?” now tears rolled down her cheeks, Finns morbid face not cracking once. His eyes pierced into Clarke, striking at her heart which screamed to be placed back together as it had shattered long ago. But the staring suddenly stopped. Finns eyes trailed off of Clarke, drawing a deep sigh from the blonde. With the tears coming to a halt, Clarke followed the dead boy’s eyes, which came to rest upon a glinting beaker which was strewn on the dusted floor. Clarke sighed, the beautiful cup was caked in crushed food and dried mud from the mess beneath it. Clarke drew in a deep breath, recognising that it was the cup which Lexa was about to drink from. It just didn’t make sense? Yes Raven was angry, so very angry; but not enough to try kill herself and everyone she knew. Clarke couldn’t get her head around it. How had she slipped it in the drink to begin with? Momentarily, Clarke's eyes flew wide; Raven hadn’t known that Clarke would be drinking the substance too, but she still hadn’t pushed Clarke aside when she had brought the beaker to her mouth. And Clarke knew that Raven couldn’t stand her at the moment but she knew the mechanic enough to know that she wouldn’t have let Clarke die at her hand. That’s when it clicked; it wasn’t in the bottle, it was in the cup. 

Clarke dived forward, grabbing the metal drinkware. It shimmered in her hands at the remaining candles which still burnt in the empty air. From high above she could hear her mother calling her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Raven was losing an impossible battle and Clarke now had a chance to grasp the slither of truth which shone between the cracks. 

Clarke's forehead creased as she reconsidered, but returned to the same answer; Raven had never touched the cup. She had entered the bunker for the first time, behind Clarke, but the beakers were revealed from the guarded depths of Lexa's shadow a good while later. and when coming to think about it, Raven had never even touched the alcohol which had caused Gustus’ big frame to keel onto the table. Clarke's mind tracked onto one word, one name; Gustus.

Clarke dropped the beaker. In slow motion it clattered on the floor, rolling and stopping next to the blue perpetrator which had caused this whole scene. Glancing up, Finn’s eyes remained on Clarke once again; she would have shuddered if she hadn’t been mouthing a small thank you. 

Clarke dashed forwards grasping the bottle from the ground, the condensation on the glass smearing with her fingerprints. Like a lightning bolt, Clarke sprinted up the stairs, they dropped beneath her two at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYO CLARKE IS ONTO SOMETHING


	25. Chapter 25

“STop!” Clarke's heaving voice broke the air which was thick with revenge. Lexa slowly spun around, her eyes leaving Raven’s slumping body for the first time since she made her primary cut. The sky girls chest still lifted ever so slightly, her blood coated almost every inch of visible skin.

Instantly, swords shielded the circle which had formed around Raven, blocking Clarke's path. “Let her pass.” Lexa's voice surprised the blonde, the words not expected. At the command each grounder turned, their upheld daggers sparkling with Raven’s blood as their eyes landed on Clarke. Bellamy had rushed forward, a gaggle of words slipping from his mouth as he did. But Clarke didn’t hear him; all she could hear was the melodic thudding of her heart in her mouth. 

Stepping forward, Clarke stared at Lexa. A slight frown burrowed on the blonde’s features when the two leaders met eyes, a weird sense of uncertainty was tucked into the green forest of Lexa's glance. Clarke's eyes darted behind the Commander, landing on her chained up friend for the first time. With no time passing Clarke blood was boiling, her nostrils flaring at the state of Raven. The few feet which were between the two leaders dissipated as Clarke hungrily strode forward, venom on her tongue. 

“One of your people tried to kill you Lexa, not one of mine.” Through the thinning bandages Clarke could feel the hiss as her nails dug into the raw skin, the pain only driving her forward with her unravelling of the messy situation. Clarke observed as Lexa's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before jumping behind Clarke. On instinct Clarke shot her eyes to the side, only just managing to make out Bellamy's figure. She saw his jaw clenched and a hand slip onto his forearm, one which much resembled Clarke's mothers. Throwing her eyes back to Lexa, Clarke watched as something stirred in the Commanders eyes, but as a silent façade shaded her true thoughts. 

Like a howl, bring carried by the wind, Indra's voice rose, “You should have run.” Clarke's mouth twitched as she refrained from diving at the warrior, wrapping her blistered hands around Indra's scar marked neck. 

Instead Clarke swallowed, the stinging bile sinking down her throat as she tensely lifted the blue bottle. “I can prove it.” The words bolted out conclusively, but the slight break in Clarke's voice dared to permit otherwise. 

There was a stark silence as nobody moved; everyone unsure of Clarke's next move. The skycrew who had crowded behind the blonde waited gingerly, their eyes flitting around, their brains whirring. Lexa stood, fixed on the girl in front of her. The numerous faces of the tree people hung hushed, their worn eyes prayed for no more bloodshed. Raven was alone; all the predators had now forgotten about her, as she struggled to keep her eyes focused on her enemy, her friend. 

A riled up sense of panic washed through Clarke's veins as she felt every single set of eyes tearing into her flesh. She held an outstretched arm, which ached with the weight of the unused alcohol. Glancing around, she brushed down that panic, giving room for all the emotions which had been crammed into her soul to bubble up and take control of her body. She felt her heart speed up as this anger, this disappointment, and this loss sparked a fire within her. As the flames shot through every bone inside of her, Clarke grasped the cork which was wedged into the neck of the glass, and she tugged it out with a startling pop. With no hesitation she brought the cold opening to her lips. As the bitter sweet liquid drained past her tongue and down her throat, Clarke swallowed frantically, absorbing as much of the drink as she could. Behind her she felt Bellamy shift, and she knew he was only just refraining himself from smashing the beaker out of her hand. Clarke couldn’t hold her breath for any longer, so she dropped the bottle from her mouth and for the first time noticed the look on Lexa's face. Her plump lips were parted, a whisper of a breath sliding between them. Her emerald eyes stared in disbelief and almost in awe if Clarke wasn’t mistaken. Her warrior veneer was a ghost now, a human revealed behind the mask. 

Clarke's chest heaved as she sucked in as much air as she could, the recognisable sting as the alcohol seared her throat raw. She knew she had limited time to free Raven before the drink would take effect and blinds her drunk. Luckily Lexa was eager for an answer too, her face now twisted into a strange mix of Commander and emotions. “Explain,” Lexa demanded, her lips turning into a grimace.

“The poison wasn’t in the bottle, it was in the cup.” Here Clarke clamped her mouth shut as a whisper struck up within Lexa's people. She had no idea how to elaborate on this, but before she could say anything she heard the gruff ache of Gustus, his words trigedasleng, unfathomable to skycrew ears. Lexa's head was slightly turned in the general’s direction, her expression perturbed. 

“It was you,” Bellamy's voice filled the space between the indistinct chatter. For once the man spoke quietly, his accusation gentle, but nonetheless a threat. Clarke watched as Gustus leaned slightly back, his beard bouncing as he swallowed and as his jaw tensed. Nobody opposed. 

Clarke turned, her eyes landing on a Bellamy whose face was tormented, the silent thought process boiling up on his features. “It was him who tested the cup,” now his voice was booming, his eyebrows arched and nostrils flared, “It was him who searched Raven.” Clarke's jaw dropped ever so slightly.

Lexa's voice cut through, it was sharp, her words piercing. “Gustus would never harm me.”

“You weren’t the target,” Bellamy's voice dropped, “The alliance was.”

∞

Suddenly the mess unfolded. Lexa felt a crushing sense of regret but also an overpowering sense of relief. Her mind flicked back to their earlier discussion as her eyes laid on Gustus, whose face had drained white. Tears pricked her eyes as she turned back to face Clarke, her chest clenching tight, suffocating her heart. Her face hadn’t once revealed any sort of fear, but her knees shook ever so slightly as the next words slipped out of her mouth. “Yu don ge finga au, Gostos.”You have been accused Gustus. His fond face slipped back into view, “Ron ai ridiyo op” speak true. She spoke in Gustus’ native tongue, the trigedasleng words burning her lips as they went past.

The next silence was almost unbearable for Lexa. She prayed that Clarke was wrong and the bleeding girl behind her was still to be charged, but as each second slipped by, it became more and more apparent that Gustus was guilty. “This alliance would have cost you your life Heda,”

Every voice stopped. Lexa took a sharp breath, her jaw clenching so tight that her teeth stung. Indra's eyes shot wild as they now scanned Gustus; who stared straight ahead with no remorse on his features. “I could not let that happen.”

“This treachery will cost you yours,” the words were powered by the Commander, but the eyes which sent a silent ‘why’ to those of Gustus’ were powered by Lexa. “Teik em set raun ona tree.” Put him on the tree.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!! im so extremely sorry that i disappeared for like 475263 years. ive been away on holiday for the past month so i havent been able to do any writing. i was also feeling very uninspired as a lot of time has passed since i started this fic, and ive written a shit tonne to set out the scene, without a lot of clexa in it so far. so i just wanted to say that this chapter is the bud which is finaLLY going to bloom into clarke and lexas relationship. IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG AND I APPRICIATE YOU ALL SO MUCH AHHHH

There was a sudden clatter as Lexa's guards locked onto Gustus, whose eyes didn’t stray from Lexa's own. A wave of nausea hit her as she stared into Gustus’ knowing eyes for longer than she should have. Her jaw clenched, a colliding mix of familiar feelings swarmed through her bones. Sky people rushed past her, threading loops of guilt around her, tracing to the feeble girl on the pole. But this Lexa could push back in her mind, the sky girl would recover. Lexa choked back a reaction as the daunting fact arose, after the day’s events, Raven would recover; Lexa was unsure whether the answer would be the same for herself.

∞

Raven felt everything all at once and nothing at all. Deep inside her flesh she felt the knife slashes rubbing together as she was lifted into a dimly lit hut. The cold surface she was plastered out on temporarily held the gashes on her back together like some sort of magic glue. Her eyes hung limply open, exhausted. Her stomach churned, so Raven focused on the spinning feeling, distracting herself from the feeling of her head going light, the feeling of her own blood drenching her clothes as it leaked from far within her. 

To begin, she thought the pain had induced the turmoil in her stomach, but as she focused more and more, a looming thought pushed against the front of her mind, one she wished she didn’t have to confront. Clarke had saved her.

Raven hissed as a cloth was pressed onto a wound, a fuzzy voice following it. She had no strength. Letting her eyelids slide shut, a familiar flash of blonde hair swam ahead of her, only causing Raven’s stomach to squirm even more before blackness passed over her. 

∞

 

Supress the feelings. Supress the feelings. For the first time in what Lexa felt was forever, those words were circling her brain. The task usually consisted of nothing, it was more instinct than anything else, but as Lexa waited, facing the blood bathed Gustus, that simple task could quite easily become a problem.

There had been those restless nights, where Lexa had twisted and turned, and scenarios had formed in her mind of how the past could have changed, or how the future would pan out. Few of which, strayed too far, her mind running into dark tunnels of misery, images she did not want to depict appearing behind her closed eyes. This was one of them. She had briefly imagined how she would react if she ever had to kill one of those closest to her, but as soon as the image appeared; she had shut it down, scolding herself for letting her mind wander aimlessly. She sighed; maybe if she hadn’t found such a discomfort in the idea, she would at this moment be more clued up on what to do with the clusterfuck of a scene ahead of her. 

The general was almost unrecognisable, the deep coat of crimson blended all of his twisted features, hiding his face tattoo and matting his unkempt beard to his quivering chest. Lexa didn’t know whether to be thankful that she wasn’t seeing the same face which had brought her so much comfort over the years, or whether to feel a sense of regret that she had missed the opportunity to say goodbye to the welcoming complexion Gustus usually saved for her, as for now it seemed obvious that no joy could be brought to this man’s face ever again. His body was littered with stab marks, ones that went so deep you could almost see his soul spilling out. The excruciating pain taunted him as he struggled to maintain an unbothered face; his legs weakly held the giant man, the tree on which he was tied was the only true support. His bottom lip pouted out as he snatched quick breaths of air, his whole body trembling and twitching as his lungs filled up and then deflated. 

Lexa tore her eyes away from her general, and instead fought the rising bile in her throat. The whole village had gathered now, skycrew alike, and she watched as her villagers cleaned the blood from their daggers, the faces which weren’t hidden behind the Trikru masks seemed a lot more content now they had someone pay for the uproar. To Lexa's left, Anya and Indra quietly watched. Lexa could tell that both women were deeply affected by the sight ahead of them too. There was a small whimper from behind Lexa as Raven emerged, supported by Clarke's mother. The crowd paused. There was a deathly silence as Lexa turned to face the sky crew, her eyes locking with Clarke's. Lexa left no pause, no time for her emotions to slip out onto her face, and slowly spun back around to face Gustus. She was stood about three feet before him, but he still loomed over her. Lexa took in a shaky breath, her hand falling onto the hilt of her sword.

Gustus caught Lexa's eyes. Before she could drop her stare, he pursed his lips, using the last of his strength to force out the trembling words, “ste yoju.” Be strong. Lexa gritted her teeth as tears threatened her eyes. She feeling of her heart falling a bit further caused her to push back her shoulders to prevent her chest from shuddering. Taking a sharp breath, her nostrils flared as she placed one foot behind her, her arm drawing across her finely positioned body, unsheathing her sword with one mastered swoosh. Her eyes never left Gustus’. Rising the polished blade, Lexa brought her left arm out, horizontally across the front of her. Atop of this, she balanced her sword, the shining tip feeling like an anchor in her hand, the usually familiar weapon becoming alien. 

“yu gonplei ste odon.” Her voice came out powerful, but quieter than she expected as Gustus gave her a laboured nod. Lexa twisted her sword and stepped forward. There was a squelch as the tip pierced Gustus’ flesh, a deep gasp rumbling from within him. Lexa continued to push, ignoring how much her hands were shaking. She felt every bump within his body until the sword crashed against the tree trunk on the other side. Gustus’ eyes finally fell from her own, his head sagging on his chest. Lexa released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, her hand moved fast, shakily whipping out the sword. Suddenly her chest tightened as her knees went weak, her mouth hanging open. Waves of emotions washed over her, and she had no idea what to do. Her head went light as the ground at which she stared started to spin, as if Gustus was the only person left which tethered her to the ground. And now he was gone.


	27. Chapter 27

ok so basically just wondering if anyone wants me to keep going with this fic? ive kind of killed it off by accident and im wondering if anyone actually still wants to read it... let me know


	28. Chapter 28

The cold night air had only just begun to enclose around the tight camp skycrew had set up inside TonDC’s borders; but the unwavering pulse of alcohol circulating in Clarke's bloodstream was more than enough to fend the nippy wind. After she had downed the bottle earlier that night, her mind had been spun into an uncontrollable haze of drunken confusion. She had clearly proved that the drink wasn’t poisoned but she hadn’t thought about this. On the Ark the alcohol limit was very low, for over eighteens only, and seen as though Clarke didn’t even get a chance to celebrate hers she hadn’t had the chance to build up a tolerance to the substance. 

She perched on a fallen tree, her back to the crackling fire which her associates huddled. Her head rested in her sweaty hands, her elbows perched on her swaying knees as she tried to control the waves of nausea that kept hitting her as if she was a human punching bag. The only reason she hadn’t spewed up her insides so early on in the night was the, now lucky, cancelation of the supper that Trikru had earlier prepared. Clarke hadn’t eaten all day.

Someone plopped down next to Clarke; she didn’t look up. “You okay Griffin?” it was the last voice Clarke had expected to hear. Glancing up, Clarke forced a small smile at Raven who had lost her usual cocky demeanour. Taking a deep breath Clarke sat up, almost falling backwards off the bench. “Woah,” Raven grabbed the swaying blonde, “Hey why don’t we go for a little walk?”  
Clarke shyly met Raven’s knowing eyes, sharing a small nod. 

The two girls stood, Raven supported Clarke, wincing every time the blonde tripped over her own feet, then having to shush the girl from apologising profusely about letting her get in such a state to begin with. 

∞

“You're clearly not okay!” Anya's raised voice followed her as she paced forwards and backwards in the commanders tent. Lexa sat nonchalantly and watched her sisters feet pass back and forth, her shoulders drooped and her knees were tucked under her chin. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone would be okay when they're put in a situation like that,” Anya threw her hands in the air, her legs coming to a halt as she turned to face Lexa, who sat on her throws. “And you know what Lexa?” now she grasped her own chin, her face turning up as she pretended to think, “Even though you're this powerful Commander,” Anya now pointed at her, “IT’S OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY!” 

“STOP-SHOUTING-AT-ME-ANYA!” 

“YOU-STOP-SHOUTING-AT-ME!” Anya waved her finger frantically as Lexa shot up, taking wide steps over towards her.

“I’M THE COMMANDER!” Lexa spat the words out, her veins popping out of her neck.

“And I'm concerned,” Anya replied, her voice timid as she ripped down any angst which had formed between the two. At this Lexa's mouth slowly closed, her eyes dropping to her feet. 

“I know,” Lexa reached out and squeezed Anya's upper arm, “I need some fresh air.”

Both girls threw on their long coats and passed through the tent flap, the stars welcoming them as they silently made their way into the forest.

 

∞

Clarke had made it about ten steps out of the TonDC perimeter before she caved in. Raven; who in the state that she was, couldn’t grab Clarke as she tumbled to the forest floor, the impact sending her world spinning double that what it had before. All that surrounded them was the hidden fence, blocking off the firelight from the village, the moon which patiently waited and the creaking trees, who leaned over to observe the weak girl which curled up by their feet. 

∞

“Anya we need to stop,” Lexa's voice was shallow, her head sagging as she reached out to lean against a tree. Her nostrils flared as she focused on her feet, which spun before her like she had stood up too fast. “I don’t feel well.”

Anya was quick by her side as Lexa deeply inhaled, her words of reassurance lost in the night air. It had been a long time since Lexa had felt like this; since her hands had shaken vigorously and her stomach had spun like someone twisting out washed clothes. 

“I don’t know-”

“Shhh,” Anya whispered, her hand rubbing Lexa's back, “just breath.”

“I-” Lexa began again, the word tipping her over the edge. Her body lunged forward as her stomach constricted, Anya hastily grasping the brunette hair from around Lexa's face, grimacing at the sight of what her sister threw up.

∞

Clarke lay on the forest floor, almost peacefully as Raven just watched, perplexed on what to do. Just as she began to reach down, Clarke shot up, her eyes rolling back and Raven’s cry of concern was drowned out by the sudden heaving, Clarke scurrying to all fours, her back arching as she retched again, this time sending a putrid splash onto the earth.

After a few minutes, the blonde slumped backwards, fatigued from her shaking body. It had been a long time since she had been so drunk. Her mind dashed back to when the delinquents had first landed, and how totally trollied that had all become when they found the stash of booze alongside the guns in the underground bunker. A small smile crept up onto her face, which she wiped away along with the saliva which hung from her mouth. Getting herself together she turned to face Raven, an apologetic look on her features. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that Ray,” there was a silence between the pair, a wordless agreement to put the argument behind them, the burning blame was stomped out leaving both the girls sat on the dark forest floor; content with finally seeing eye to eye.

Through the silence, Clarke noticed Raven’s discomfort which seemed to sprout from her leg more so than the gashes which littered her olive skin. “You should probably get on back Raven,” Clarke stood, reaching out to help her friend up too. “I’ll be okay now; I just need to go on a small walk.” At this Raven took Clarke's hand, the blonde pulling her onto her feet.

“Be careful Clarke.”

“As always.” With this both girls turned away and set off on their ways.

 

∞

A twig snapping in the near distance caused Lexa's head to flick up, Anya accidentally pulling her hair as she held it in clumps away from Lexa's sick splashed mouth. The Commander let out a small wince as Anya dropped her hair, both girls sharing a concerned look.

“I’ll go check it out,” Anya whispered, Lexa nodding. “Are you sure you’ll be ok on your own?” Anya hesitated before asking Lexa this, but proceeded anyway, ending up being greeted with the unimpressed look from Lexa that she expected. “I’ll take that as a yes then.” Anya grumbled.

The older woman silently stalked off, only sharing one more look of concern at Lexa's current state before she disappeared between the trees. Lexa watched her go from her post at the vomit tree, her hair a mess hanging around her face, the taste of acidic seconds flooding her mouth. 

Getting herself together, Lexa wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and shifted away from the tree, the moonlight finally flickering over her skin as she stood in a sparser area of the forest. Glancing up, a small smile fell onto her lips, there was a new star shining brighter than ever, looking over her. The smile dripped off rather quickly as her mind spun once again through everything that had happened earlier that day. She told herself to remember Gustus as the man who was always looking over her, even now. 

She needed some space, away from the trees. Her brain racked where she could go, a certain spot jumping to mind. Pushing her feelings aside, she took off, her feet falling silently on the dry ground.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! I was inspired by a pickup line for this story haha, I hope you all enjoy it.  
> translations - natrona / traitor  
> yu gonplei ste odon / your fight is over but coME ON YOU HAVE TO KNOW THAT ONE


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